The Lady
by daretwodream
Summary: Not being able to trust anything that The Firm, The Company or any other Government agency would say or do. It was hardly a shock to Jo and Caitlin, that it would likely be the last time they would see Saint John or "The Lady" again.
1. Chapter 1

AIRWOLF™ is a Trademark of and licensed to NBC Universal Television Studios © 1984. This fiction story in no way intends to infringe upon the Copyrights and Trademark held by Belisarius Productions or NBC Universal Television Studios. I just like to play with the characters.

A note from the Author:

For those of you who are familiar with the Airwolf series, you will quite likely pick up what is being put down and settle in easily.

This is my version of a continuation of Airwolf starting from parts of the first episode of season four, for continuity of my plot into the modern day.

So, if you liked the last season, sorry, in my world it is only acknowledged as the nightmares and premonitions of a rambling Stringfellow Hawke, but I think it's a good read, so hopefully you'll give it a go.

If you're like me and would rather not think about season four, then I hope you will enjoy my story.

For those of you not familiar with the mighty Airwolf. Google is your friend and it would be helpful to you to watch the pilot movie and key episodes which, I'd be happy to forward to you if you ask nicely

The Lady

Prologue

Jo thought back to that day that changed all their lives forever.

Not the one where her uncle Dom was killed, though that was certainly change enough. No, it was the day the String woke up from his illness induced coma caused by Legionnaires Disease.

String had been behaving more erratically then what was usual for him and true to form, he was also too stoic for his own good. Coming down with what he thought was gastro from bad seafood at that new restaurant he'd taken Caitlin to, he elected to stay at the cabin. In his bed and with a raging fever, he didn't make it to the radio to call someone and collapsed before becoming gravely ill. Barely able to breath, and alone, he had lost consciousness before Dom found him and got him to hospital just in the nick of time.

Only days later, Dom had been killed under mysterious circumstances, devastating everyone at Santini Air. It was likely no coincidence that just before the bomb was planted, Saint John received notice of Strings bleak condition and was finally relieved from his duty after serving eighteen years on a deep uncover assignment in Guatemala.

Saint John was flying back to the States at the time, so he didn't even know that Dom had been blown to smithereens until he landed at LAX.

String had briefly woken up, almost as if he knew Saint John had finally come back after all this time. String begged Saint John to not let him die in that hospital and after his extended absence, he sure as hell wasn't going to let his brother down.

Unfortunately, not long after he had been transferred into the care of a private medical team, Stringfellow Hawke slipped back into unconsciousness.

Back at his cabin by the lake with Tet, his ever faithful Bluetick Coonhound by his side and with the dulcet tones of the cello music that he loved so much. Its sorrowful melodies resonated from his sound system and it was twenty-three days before he finally woke again.

As always, String played to his own tunes and against the better judgment of his doctors, he just had to get out what had been on his mind while he'd been out. All the dreams and nightmares spilled from him, the missions flown by a bunch of clowns, "The Company" taking over from The -now defunct- FIRM's missions. Some of which Airwolf should never have been part of, risking her unnecessarily and her trivialising her purpose. He said they knew where Saint John was all along, that he wasn't MIA and he hadn't been anywhere near Nam since String got out. String was all over the place and rambling in his weakened mental state.

Nothing anyone could do would calm him, he was coughing and spluttering so hard that he was bleeding from the lungs and their only option was to sedate him.

The last words from his mouth where "They killed Dom, don't let them have Airwolf," before he passed out again and stopped breathing twenty minutes later. The medical team threw everything they had at him, but it wasn't enough, Stringfellow Hawke was pronounced dead at 1512 on a Monday afternoon.

"How did he know? "Jo said to herself for what seemed like the thousandth time as she thought again of the day of String's Funeral.

Saint John received a call from a Mr. Jason Locke, from "The Company", not even an hour after String had been laid to rest up on the hill above the lakeside cabin and next to the woman who's dying wish was that she wanted to see the eagles. He was ordered to bring them Airwolf as was promised in the deal once Saint John had been _found_.

Saint John laughed mirthlessly, resentful of all the lies told, not only to his brother and the Santini family- his family- but also to him all this time. Changing the name of the agency wasn't going to absolve them of their culpability.

Archangel disappeared just as quickly, Locke revealing that he'd been suddenly reassigned to the middle east. With the FIRM now dissolved, there was nothing left of what was already a tenuous alliance. Saint John would never forgive them.

Not being able to trust anything that The Firm, The Company or any other Government agency would say or do, it was hardly a shock to Jo and Caitlin, that it was likely the last time they would see Saint John and "The Lady" again.


	2. 1 Santini Air

**1**

**Santini Air**

After both String and Dom's deaths, Jo and Caitlin had no choice but to keep things running, and with barely any time to grieve for their loss, they wrote up a deal whereby they agreed to their future plans for Santini Air.

While Jo would always remain the majority owner, she never let it get in the way of their strong alliance. Caitlin was definitely her right-hand woman and became the Chief Pilot slash Manager of sorts to start with and then later, bought into a partnership once the girls were confident enough to take that step.

It had been just over thirty years, and while they were still able to fly the pants off most other chopper pilots, they were both now in their sixties and had taken more to working on the business, rather than in it. In recent years and with the huge popularity in drone flight, they had also branched out to include the new technology in their camera and photography contracts, grudgingly agreeing that if they couldn't beat them, they may as well join them.

This was largely thanks to Half Pint, who was in charge of much of the new development within the now substantial charter company. Caitlin took St. John's son in at fifteen. The boy needed a stable home, where he wasn't surrounded with unsavoury behaviour that he'd unwittingly ended up mixed up in after a long series of family tragedies and other drama.

Le, being a highly intelligent boy, had gained a reputation in his town for fixing computers.

Earning enough to live off, he was able to continue putting himself through school from the age of thirteen. The half Asian kid became emancipated and then eventually moved in with Caitlin and her husband Daniel permanently.

Caitlin had always been attracted to flyboys and loved a man in a flight-suit. So, when Daniel, one of the carrier pilots from the late 80's Navy blockbuster movie they were working on, showed an interest, she was a goner.

Not long thereafter, the couple discovered that they couldn't have children of their own, which put pressure on their relationship. That and the strain that every military couple already had to contend with, found the two growing more and more distant. Dan simply wasn't cut out to adult as much as he needed to, and Caitlin found out that he was cheating on her. It proved to her that the saying was true, they really did have a girl in every port. They divorced not much more than a year into the marriage.

The two company matriarchs had lived their lives almost in parallel since they'd banded together to keep Dom's legacy flying. They'd been thick as thieves, so much so, that one could almost hear Dom's voice say that they were like 'sisters from a different mister."

It was Dom that made it his mission to teach Jo how to fly, along with the both String and Saint John. But when she was accepted to a college on the east coast to study medicine, so she didn't stick around.

With aviation in her blood and after only a few months, she had been offered a job and decided to drop out to instead pursue her flying career. She stayed over east because of her college boyfriend and when that finished, she simply stayed because she loved her job as a seaplane pilot and her island life in Florida.

That was until she came back to Cali for a holiday. Dom welcomed her back with open arms and offered her work at Santini Air, she made fast friends with Caitlin in the process and ended up staying permanently.

She jumped straight in and it was barely a month later, when that ill-fated day turned her life upside down.

Jo got married in the same year as Caitlin and Dan, to Airline Pilot, Jon Majors and tragically, that marriage was also short lived.

Jon was also a stunt pilot when he wasn't flying passenger jets and often entertained onlookers with a good friend of his. They flew their aerobatic planes in formation at air shows. It was Jo that suggested that they take Half Pint to the Travis Airshow to give Caitlin and Dan a bit of time out for themselves.

Disaster struck later that day, because Jon unfortunately died in a mid-air collision. The other pilot miscalculated a low altitude loop manoeuvre and flew right into him. Both Pitts Special's and their pilots met their fiery demise from only fifty feet, right in front of his pregnant wife and young Le.

The lad never got over seeing that accident and no longer left the ground in anything that flew after that. It was a miracle at that he was involved with aviation at all, but he was and he'd grown into a fine man - a genius in fact and he'd also grown out of his nick name and insisted, instead on being called by his real name Le Van-Hawke. He studied hard and collected Computer, Aerospace and Tech Engineering degrees - among others – which came in very handy for the Van Nuys business. He spent a lot of time working for Santini Air when he wasn't contracted to likes of Lockheed Martin or some other aerospace industry giant.

Eight months after Jon's accident, Jo welcomed Nash Dominic Stringfellow Majors into the world, and he was the apple of her eye. The boy grew up a healthy, happy kid that everyone was extremely proud of, and he almost had no choice but to show a keen interest in aviation and flying in particular. It was after all running in his veins.

It was fortunate then, that he had the resources to get both his fixed-wing and helicopter licences at the minimum required age and well before he'd even finished high school.

Nash, or "Wings" as his buddies called him was thirty-two years old now. He took to the armed forces after his education was complete, and joined the Army, just like the men from both his middle namesakes, and in particular, the legend that was Stringfellow Hawke.

As a kid, Nash became quite obsessed with String, and even with the little "need to know" information that Jo divulged of the brooding and troubled man, Nash managed to follow in String's footsteps almost to the inch. He had made it through the ranks and became a very sought-after test pilot, just not as broody. He'd come out of a couple of tours of duty, just not Vietnam and there was practically nothing that Nash couldn't fly, he was a natural, just like String.

He eventually started to get approached by the private companies that supplied aircraft to the armed forces, which was tempting, but that often left long stretches of idle time. Then one day, he had been offered a lucrative contract by Nine-Tenth's Repossession, a major luxury item repo business. That finally distracted him enough to investigate further. The excitement is what drew him to it and rising to the challenge, he could use his military training to his advantage. The contracts were lucrative, and he had a knack for bringing back the spoils, complete with corresponding logbooks and therefore doubling his fee.

It was one thing to take back an aircraft and quite another to deliver them with paperwork, which was often not kept with the aircraft, but within offices or the homes of potentially hostile debtors. The other issues were assessing aircraft that may or may not be airworthy, or have enough fuel, or flying them out of obscure locations like he stole them … which was kind of exactly what he was doing, depending on which end of the law you were talking to.

It had been five years now and he still got a rush from it, he'd been all over the world taking back aircraft that hadn't been fully payed for and returning them back to the creditors under often dangerous conditions with the promise of a huge 10% of what the acquisition was worth for every successful logbook complete retrieval. His contract also allowed him many freedoms, he could work when he wanted to and where he wanted to, he could afford to cherry pick simply because he'd earned the reputation of being the best in his field.

This benefited Santini Air too. He regularly flew for his family business when they needed a particularly skilled pilot to do any high stakes stunt flying and the like and it also meant he could stay home whenever he wanted to. They were a tight unit and he'd made a really great life for himself.

It had been a particularly long stint this time around and Nash was expecting huge paycheque in the next few days. He'd delivered an almost new Gulfstream 650E, worth 50mil from the UAE to LAX the day before and was now ferrying home one of Santini's old Bell 47's from a movie set at Universal. Van Nuys was only 15 mins away and therefore, he was killing two birds with one stone.

Le had also almost reached Santini Air. His part of the latest classified project he had been working on for SEXII, had finished well ahead of schedule and he was happy that he'd made it home in time to be able to enjoy a weekend with his people. That also meant that he could celebrate his forty seventh birthday at end of the following week, home and with his family for the first time in years.

He'd go back once the rest of the venture had caught up to install the technical systems he'd built before final testing would commence. Happy to see the familiarity after a four-day drive from Atlanta, his thumbs unconsciously tapped away on the steering wheel to the beat coming over the speakers in his RAM truck. He made his way to the Santini Hanger and parked under the big tree next to Dom's vintage Jeep that Jo still used to this day.

Le was looking forward to seeing, Caitlin, his adoptive mother and whom he had no problem calling 'Mom' to spend some quality time with her and also Jo again. It had been six months, and he often missed the stability that his Santini family had always given him. He was also looking forward to catching up with Nash, whom he hadn't seen in almost a year because their schedules constantly clashed, with the young gun jet setting all over the world.

Taking the keys from the ignition and stepping from the truck, he made his way to the front of house built onto the side of the large hangar. His excitement increased with every step that brought him closer to seeing everyone again.

Removing his sunglasses as the large glass doors slid open, he stepped over the threshold and then called out a long, "Hullo!"

"Le Honey!" he heard Caitlin squeal with excitement from the main office. Still fit and agile and with her shoulder length hair, peppered in grey bouncing lightly as she rushed through the office door a second later to tackle him in the hallway.

"Oof," he blew out before Caitlin kissed both his cheeks.

While his mom was still hanging off him, some movement caught his eye from up the hall as Jo stuck her head out of the door with a big grin. She too sauntered out.

"Hey Jo," Le said, extricating an arm to wave at the other pretty woman, causing Caitlin to finally let go so he could give Jo a turn at a warm hug.

"So good to see you Le, we've missed you," Jo said, squeezing him before letting go.

All three turned and walked back out of the hallway, through the reception room and towards the internal door to the hanger.

It was the end of the day and the rest of the staff had already packed up. All that was left to do was to wait for Nash, push the old chopper inside and do one last walk through before locking up.

"So, what's new?" Le asked, stepping into the large space and looking around for any changes from the last time he'd visited.

Straight away, he noticed two lovely new Agusta Westland's parked up with their engine cowlings open and their rotors removed.

With eyes wide Le asked, "woah, what's the story guy's? Win in the Lottery?"

Caitlin and Jo looked at each other triumphantly.

"Noooo. But we," Jo said, pointing between her and Caitlin "just received the contract to run all the chopper transport for Branson Richards' new Hotel in Vegas when it opens next year!" she said with excitement. "These two are just being tweaked, they're getting BERP rotors retrofitted, which needs to get passed by the FAA. And then there's their refurbishment sometime before the launch, which could take a while. They can't be seen before then, so they'll be stored here in the meantime to get dolled up."

"Those Brits," Le chuckled, he knew exactly the enigmatic nature of Branson Richards. After all Le had been working for him for the past two years at his Stellar Experimental Xploratory Innovative Industries Group (or the "SEXII Group" for short)

How ironic that there should be two brand new birds sitting in his family hanger owned by the very same man. This could be huge for Santini Air, but it was always best never to get too excited about these things, because if there was one thing he knew, it was that no matter how well you were flying along, success was all about how well you control the landing.

"Well, that's good news isn't it?" Le said looking over the sleek frames in front of him - not that he'd ever get in either of them to go anywhere, "so when did this happen?"

"Only in the last few weeks," Jo shrugged, "we haven't even met him, everything been done over the phone or email and Mr Richards' lawyers came by to have our lives signed away," Jo said of the English Billionaire with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Oh, look at you fangirling!" Le said as he bumped Jo, "who'd have thunk it?"

"Oh, hush you," Jo said, chastising Le. The red tingeing her cheeks with moderate embarrassment, she bumped him back and Caitlin chuckled at the friendly dynamic between the two just as the sound of the Bell 47 diverted their attention.

"Your boy's here," Caitlin said in a sing song voice.

Jo's feet had already started to take her through the large building and toward the apron. The other two followed and watched the small helicopter land precisely on the wheeled pallet they'd left out for it. Hanging up his headset, the rotors hadn't even wound down yet before Nash was wrapped up in Jo's arms.

After the rest of the regulatory hugs, cheek kisses and fist bumps, everybody helped to push the chopper into the hanger before they started to lock up. The three made their way to the reception where, through the large plate glass entry doors, Jo spotted two Black SUV's slowly make their way up the road. They came to a stop in the visitor parking bays provided in front of the building.

"I wonder who that could be," Jo said, mumbling more to herself as she checked her watch. It was well after hours now and the vehicles had clearly parked. Caitlin shrugged not knowing and the boys joined them to take a peek for themselves.

The nature of the secret service type cars put them all on edge, because it wasn't unusual that along with them, some sort of excitement would inevitably follow. Good, bad or otherwise.

They didn't disappoint because a minute later, four men climbed from the vehicles. Three looked like body guards and the other? Well he looked exactly like…

"Is that?" Jo asked, squinting into the low laying sun.

"Why yes Jo, yes it is." Caitlin answered, crossing her arms in apprehension.

"You've got to be kidding me." Nash said incredulously at the same time, trading glances with Caitlin and then with Le.

"Huh," Le scoffed a little in disbelief, as he watched his boss make his way to the reception. He'd met Branson Richards only at team building meetings and a handful of brief encounters when the man made one of his whirlwind visits to the workplace. Only once did he have a proper conversation with him and that was after he'd completed his part of the first project for SEXII Group – a new concept on demand MIV (multi integrated visor) slaved helmet that didn't steal one of the pilot's eyes from looking where he was going and combining it with a FLIR system for thermal and infrared imaging for low visibility flying. This meant that depth perception wasn't compromised and all the debilitating settling in period when a pilots eyes are acting independently of each other could also be avoided. There was room for growth in the concept and there was much excitement over where it could lead.

"Shoot. Look busy… or something." Caitlin said quickly thinking how it would look with four people ready and waiting for their unannounced guest as he came in the door.

"Coffee?" Nash asked in a hi pitched voice as he scrambled to the small kitchenette where the fancy machine sat always at the ready. With four yeses, he started the process.

Jo and Caitlin both headed down the hallway, disappearing into the office, doing something equivalent to shuffling papers to look busy, while Le casually draped himself across one of the comfortable waiting room sofa's and picked up a flight magazine… "Le!" Nash hissed as he eyed the publication, the smell of coffee permeating through the room. Le quickly turned the magazine the right way up and glanced at the door breathing a sigh of relief. He clearly wasn't so casual after all.

Branson Richards approached the building carrying a leather brief holder and visibly took as deep breath, puffing his cheeks and hesitating, before finally entering reception.

With all the preparation to "act normal" going on, no one had actually figured out what to do once their visitor had come inside. An awkward silence ensued with Branson scanning the room. His keen eye caught the tall, dark-haired man looking fidgety as he stopped with his impersonation of a barista to wipe his hands on a dishcloth. Then his eye then fell on Le, who he recognised immediately as his number one technical engineer.

"Ahhh, Mr Van-Hawke," Branson grinned nervously while approaching his reclining employee.

Le clambered, ditching the magazine. "Mr Richards, Sir," he said, admonishing himself almost immediately and got to his feet. Holding out his hand for a grinning Branson Richards to shake.

Jo and Caitlin couldn't hide forever and nervously scampered down the short, wide hallway and into the reception area while pulling at their clothing and checking to make sure their hair was tidy only stopping just as the two men had dropped their hands.

With all five now in the one space, there was another, longer silence while they all eyed each other uneasily. "Le, aren't you going to introduce me?" Branson asked, eyeing first Nash and then his gaze naturally landing on the two lovely ladies. His grin widened as he made eye contact with Jo.

He, of course knew every one of these people and was acting the part for the moment just as much as he assumed they were.

"Oh, of course!" Le sprang into action "Caitlin O'Shannessy, Nash Majors and Jo Santini, this is Mr Branson Richards," Le announced, Branson nodding pleasantly to each and his eyes again resting on Jo.

"Hi?" Jo said with a squeak, her address coming out more like a question. Cringing internally, she scrambled to compose her herself and approached the eccentric Brit with her hand outstretched, "Oh dear, where are my manners, so pleased to finally meet you Mr Richards, are you here to see where we're at with the two 169's?"

He didn't hesitate to draw in the trim, attractive brunette and peck her on both cheeks, "Please. Call me Branson, so very lovely to meet you Ms Santini. Yes, among other things, it'd be great to see their progress," he said, beaming at her with his big cheesy grin.

Caitlin and then Nash also shook hands and exchanged greetings with him, Caitlin of course, receiving the obligatory cheek kisses. "Good to see everybody here, I was hoping to catch you all together. This is marvellous," he said as he clapped his hands together with glee, "and it will save a little time." His grin continued, leaving everyone pondering on his cryptic words.

Branson took great joy in the general confusion he caused, he was good at leaving people in suspense and then surprising them in the most impressive ways. He just hoped that the surprises he had in store this time would pay off. He had so much to achieve and without these key people involved, it would all amount to nothing. "Now," he rubbed his hands together, "Why don't we all have nice a cuppa and sit down for a little chat, we have quite a lot of ground to cover and I can have one of my men order our supper if that suits everyone?" he continued, glancing around for everybody's reactions and sounding delightfully British to the ears of the Americans.

"I could eat," Le started. The others all agreed and after choosing what cuisine they wanted, one of Branson's bodyguards went about taking the orders and proceeded to send them though a device for easy delivery.

Meanwhile, everyone was escorted to the main office and Nash set about finishing the hot beverages he started earlier , adding tea - white, with half a sugar for Mr Richards. Jo seated everyone around the large wooden table in the boardroom and was still trying to get over the fact that she and her family were going to be eating takeaway with Mr Branson Richards.

Once coffee's and teas were served along with some home-made cookies that Jo always had on hand, the door was closed to give the group some privacy. Branson's bodyguards were left lounging in the reception area with the widescreen and their own hot drinks at their disposal. It had been a long time since Jo and Caitlin had witnessed this sort of level of security, all be it casual for the moment, but none the less it did make them both equally suspect of what was about to unfold.

"Well," Branson started, directing mainly to Jo and actually looking a little nervous, which she thought was quite endearing, "I guess you are all wandering what I'm doing here and why I organised both Nash and Le to be in town at the same time?" he looked at Nash apprehensively.

"Come again?" Nash asked, snapping to attention.

Branson took a sip from his tea and raised the mug to toast, "Thanks for bringing my plane back to me by the way, the cheque's in the mail," he winked knowingly, "I bought out Nine-Tenth's Repossession about six months ago."

"You don't say," Nash huffed, folding his arms as he sat back in his chair, "I'm sensing that's no coincidence, am I right?" he asked.

"You'd be sensing pretty well." Branson agreed, nodding once.

The others all glanced at each other, a mixture of excitement and dread coming over them.

"Well Mr Richards, please don't keep us all in suspense, are you going to tell us why you're here, or keep us guessing?" the fiery redhead didn't beat around the bush. The others nodded, clearly agreeing with Caitlin.

"Ah yes, of course," Branson chortled, "I was just getting to that!" he took a bite of a cookie, "Mmm lovely," he deflected for a moment taking a sip of tea with the same nervousness that he often seemed to carry around with him.

He was justified though.

Swallowing heavily, he brushed the crumbs from his hands he finally addressed the others. He cleared his throat, "I've been approached by "a customer"," he said, giving air quotes, "regarding an attack helicopter," he paused to look around the room for any reaction.

Jo and Caitlin had long schooled themselves to look impassive. After Saint John skipped town, they both had to be very careful never to reveal any connection to that part of their past, so when a conversation of this nature started, they just played dumb.

"Ooo that sounds interesting doesn't it Jo? All these new projects are so exciting," Caitlin said, her words laced with sarcasm, now she knew that the two choppers parked in the hangar were only part of something much larger, which put a sour taste in her mouth.

Jo nodded, "indeed, but what does this have to do with us Mr Richards?" she asked suspiciously, she too was worried just how deep they were all in this without their knowledge.

Le looked on quietly taking it all in and Nash appeared as though he felt like a mushroom.

"Please, I can understand your concern and I wouldn't blame you if you thought that I might have brought you all together so that I could control you in some way but that's not it at all. While I do need you all to be under my…" he hesitated trying to think of the right word, "Umbrella, if you will, it is so that no one else outside of this group gets wind of why I'm here and also gives you other legitimate projects in your relevant fields that you're all already in. I…" he let out the rest of his breath, "just happen to own them all.

"We all have a vested interest, and this is now a matter of the greatest importance. Our security and perhaps America's security." he said, pausing again, "this is not a new project, not in a development kind of way strictly speaking," he said as he cleared his throat again nervously while the others looked on expectantly. "Which brings me to the sixty five million dollar question, colloquially speaking."

"Which is?" Jo drew out he last word, her impatience showing.

"What do you guys know about the Airwolf project?" he asked, narrowing his eyes and carefully observing the four people in front of him. Even though he knew his investments were sound in their own right, he had after all thrown in millions of dollars, more than six months of his time, and lots of luck on what started as a hunch. Now, after much in depth investigation, it all finally started to make sense.

"Airwolf?" Jo asked, while Caitlin shook her head and shrugged. Le continued to sit stoically, "Nope, doesn't ring a bell, why?"

"What's Airwolf?" Nash asked at the same time.

"Hm," Branson tapped his lips thinking of his next move, looking at Le. "I'm told that you lovely ladies may know where Saint John had taken her."

"You know my dad?" Le asked, leaning forward hopefully.

Branson knew he would get a reactiion with that connection. _Bingo_, he thought keeping a neutral face as best he could.

"No, but I know of him." He said before turning his attention to the two ladies. "Through a Mr Michael Coldsmith Briggs the Third." He said, announcing the name he knew would strike a chord with from some of them.

Rigid silence followed, breath was held and both women dared not look at each other. "He approached me almost a year ago now regarding using some of my connections in the Aerospace sector. He casually asked how Le Van Hawke was working out for me." He paused to gauge reactions again.

Jo and Caitlin still didn't budge which was telling in itself, but Branson knew that he'd hooked Le and had his undivided attention. With Nash glancing between all of them with a confused look on his face, Branson was pretty sure that he was the only one who'd not been hiding anything.

"So, then of course I did some digging. Why would Michael drop Le's name like that? I then found out where the ducks lined up." Branson glanced at Nash.

Le was still stuck on where his father might be, barely registering the conversation. The two women, who were still uncomfortably immobile, were a mixture of shocked, curious and nervous with the knowledge that the man they knew better by the name of Archangel was sniffing about.

"Naturally, after finding out, I decided to purchase Nine-Tenths and keep my investigation close to my chest." Branson said, explaining further without saying much at all.

"So, who's this Michael guy and why do you all look like you've seen a ghost?" Nash asked in genuine curiosity.

"Someone we hoped would never enter our lives again," Caitlin said in a whisper, finally breaking.

"Sure didn't see this coming," Jo said, shaking her head slowly. Both ladies not really answering Nash's question.

"Huh," Nash said in a huff, "well that was helpful. Not," he retorted.

"Branson, Archangel - Michael is in our past, we'd like to keep it that way, nothing good can come from having him involved with any project let alone anything to do with Airwolf," Jo said as she ignored Nash's wisecrack.

"Unfortunately, I don't think any of you - any of us actually have much of a choice anymore," Branson said quite seriously. Caitlin shifted uncomfortably, while the boys were held with rapt attention now that their elders were _doing business._

"Now Michael has set things in motion, I'm sure he's not in the position to just leave it alone at any of our requests. I seem to have inadvertently ended up involved, yet I had a hunch and then I may or may not have intentionally dug myself in deeper."

"A hunch? You may learn to regret that Mr Richards," Jo forewarned.

Branson grinned, "hunches have got me to where I am Ms Santini," he said, not unpleasantly. "You see, they want what I hope to keep. The best pilot in the business and also the best technical engineer. This, coupled with the search for the best attack helicopter ever built – Michael's words, not mine - all of which are connected to Santini Air."

He paused for a moment shaking his head from side to side in apparent disbelief, "what are the chances?" He asked with a grin.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the board room table and steepled his hands in front of his mouth in a moment of thought. Branson took a quick breath, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the others in turn, "Would you all like to know what else I think you all would love to know?"

"By all means don't hold back now Mr Richards," Jo scoffed sarcastically, totally unimpressed about where the conversation was heading, her body language was now quite guarded.

Branson smiled at Jo's sass, even though this was a serious matter. His unsolicited grin was a nervous habit that crept in from time to time, left over from his youth, he'd never been able to break it, no matter how hard he tried. He understood that it gave him the reputation of being a cad, or an insincere fool, but he was far from it, that little nervous smile came out when he felt that things were critical.

He caught himself, licked his lips and dropped the sides of his mouth, "Mr Coldsmith Briggs - The Third," he said, with a snicker, "I assume is U.S. Intelligence by the way he conducts himself. It appears that he wants to revisit a cold case that he hadn't been able to crack. He simply can't find Saint John or the chopper, so, here we are," he threw his hands open.

Jo huffed grimly, picking at an invisible thread on her sleeve.

"Aside from what Michael has told me, there is nothing on this helicopter anywhere, and believe me, I've used my considerable resources to look into it. We have amazing attack helicopters as standard these days. I'd like to know what makes this one so special?" Branson asked knowing that this mysterious machine could in no way be standard at all, judging by mystery that surrounded it.

Both Le and Nash's heads were spinning.

For Le, he felt hope return to finally meet his father, that's if he was still alive, but even if he wasn't at least there'd be a chance to find out something about him and instead of living in limbo the way he had been, and he could perhaps also achieve some closure. Even so, Le couldn't quite garner the same excitement that Nash seemed to be bubbling with because their priorities were totally different.

On the contrary, Nash was itching for any and all information on this chopper, it was clear to him that he was the only one in the room that was completely in the dark about this part of his family's history. He needed to fix that now that his involvement couldn't be undone. He looked at Jo, "Mom, what the hell is going on?"

Jo took a deep breath, it was time.

Caitlin or Jo hadn't talked about "The Lady" in any depth for all these years and it felt like speaking with a voice that hadn't been used in just as long. The subject was stilted and raspy and those memories needed some getting used to in order to come through clearly again.

"Airwolf was a classified project, it was before your time Wings, and when Saint John disappeared with her, he wanted it to stay that way. Clearly, he was very good at it if our Government still hasn't managed to find them after all this time. Over the years we've been asked and have said the same thing over and over. We've always maintained that we didn't know what they were talking about."

"The truth is," Caitlin added, "it didn't – doesn't even matter that we know that Airwolf exised, because we have no idea where she or Saint John are and that's why Archangel won't find them unless someone else knows something.

"Archangel was right though," Jo smirked, as she allowed her memories flood back, "Airwolf was the best attack helicopter ever built," she said thinking of the chopper's awesome speed and firepower, "I bet if she were airworthy, she still would be."

"Yeah," Caitlin breathed, smiling softly as she reminisced.

"Psht, nah ma, no way anything from that long ago could match what's around today," Nash said in a dismissive tone.

Le shook his head, knowing better but not enough to argue the point, so he just kept quiet. All he really knew was that the helicopter was fast. Like really, really fast. But his memories were that of a young boy, who's idea of fast would've been going down a hill on his bicycle.

"Have we got a picture of this bird anywhere?" Nash asked, "You guys sure are talking it up and I wanna know what all the fuss is about."

Caitlin shook her head, "We destroyed everything that connected us to her."

"To us, The Lady died when Saint John up and left with her, she died along with uncle Dom and String." Jo said sadly.

"The Lady?" Nash snorted, "this chopper has a nick name now?"

Jo smiled, thinking back "Yeah, and she sure was beautiful, I kind of wish I had kept something more than my memories to remind me of her."

"You guys are too much, let me get this straight. The best attack helicopter ever built is not a paper bag job?" Everyone chuckled over the inside joke, Nash was right, though. Attack helicopters, while designed for purpose, were notoriously ugly machines to look at.

Branson joined in the lark, but for different reasons, he watched the others closely and noticed that the two beautiful women fondly reminisced about their past and Nash was behaving like any red blooded bloke and knew he'd always be up for an adventure…. Even if it was in an ugly machine.

And Le, Branson was still unsure of. He likely was thinking of something other than this helicopter he suspected. There was a knock at the door and their attention was temporarily diverted to the food that they'd ordered.

Once their meal was arranged, Branson thought now was as good as any time to show them what he had brought with him. He grabbed an envelope from the leather satchel he'd arrived with. It contained some old file photos that Michael had forwarded to him before placing it carefully onto the table. Together the group looked up at the item for a few moments, before finally Nash reached for it, picked it up and carefully began the process of retrieving the items.

After a long low whistle, "so let me guess. This is _The Lady_?" he said the last two words in a suggestive manner waggling his eyebrows.

"Where'd you get those!?" Caitlin asked, glaring at Branson.

"You sure weren't kidding!" Nash interrupted as he started to look through them. "I'd definitely fly that! Looks fast just standing there," he added with interest, passing the photos around one by one.

"Oh, she was fast" Jo said absently as she scanned the images one by one, giving them to Caitlin.

The photos were only of The Lady and in black and white, likely made right at the beginning, still during development while String was testing her and before Dom was ever involved, judging by the unknown warehouse setting the photos were shot in. That didn't matter though, Caitlin still remembered her true colours. A wolf in sheep's clothing that reminded her more of a sleek shark in shape, cloaked in the colours of an orca whale. And like a shark or an orca, peaceful until provoked, where upon she became the most deadly beast in her habitat.

Jo was reminded of the loss the machine had caused her family. That chopper made grown men and some women do things that they wouldn't ordinarily do. It was so wanted, so beautiful, so valuable and also so, so deadly. She cast spell on all those who touched her. Her uncle Dom, Jo was sure, was more than a little in love with her. After all he was the one who'd first christened her "The Lady".

Le, with only his vague recollections of Airwolf, had to admit that his memory of her didn't do her justice. But this was the object that caused his father to disappear again, it had that much power over the Santini and Hawke families that Saint John just couldn't let it go.

Le quietly placed the photos back on the table and concentrated on eating.

Nothing escaped Branson's attention, the whole table had lapsed into an awkward silence. He wasn't a clueless man, he wouldn't be where he was if that was the case. He'd pieced together why Michael had approached him. it was to find out if he could dig enough to see if this family knew where Saint John had fled to.

It had to be of frontline importance, if a newly formed intelligence agency had dragged The FIRM's former point man out of moth balls to find that chopper. If they found Saint John alive, it would simply be nice for the other people in this room. Unfortunately, knowing how the Government worked, they'd likely arrest him for stealing military property in his old age and he'd die behind bars, breaking this family's hearts all over again.

He'd already thought about why there was such intense interest in the helicopter. One would have thought if they couldn't have the original, which was after all, almost forty years old now - since its inception, then why not just build another?

Le was brooding, he couldn't get the possibility of the new link with his father out of his mind. All his life it had been like ships passing in the night for them both, and here he was, looking at this carrot dangling in front of him.

Saint John had left without a trace. And it wasn't as though his family hadn't searched, they'd spent years on and off following leads spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on private investigators and calling in intelligence favours until they'd exhausted all avenues, none of which ever panned out. Saint John simply didn't want to be found.

"What do you want Mr Branson?" Le asked, glaring right at the older man. He just wasn't in the mood for niceties and was as suspicious as it came.

"Yes, I think we'd all like to know," Caitlin backed him up. The others clearly in agreement judging by their culminating stares, but they remained quiet.

Branson certainly couldn't blame them and he nodded in accord. Maybe just ripping the band aid off would be the best thing. These people didn't strike him as being the type to waffle about with the softly, softy approach.

He liked that in them.

"I thought that'd be obvious. I want to find Saint John and Airwolf."

Jo snorted, using a napkin to wipe her mouth, "Good luck with that," she said abruptly. She stood and made her way to the water cooler, grabbing a glass before filling it.

"Branson, we don't even know if Saint John is alive or that he didn't scrap Airwolf himself and there's no way we'll come within a bargepole's length if Archangel's involved. There's a reason Dom always called him Mr. Clean. We're not interested in any Government agencies, been there, done that, read the book and went to both funerals." Caitlin said in a dismissive tone.

Branson thought for a moment, studying them closely, this was exactly what he wanted to know. "That's good, because I have no intention of helping the government any more than necessary. I have to question an organisation that only ever built one of these attack helicopters and why that would be?"

If this super copter was everything that they wanted, then why did they leave it in the eighties?

"Could be because to date they haven't been able to replicate the speed of The Lady, she passed Mach One you know," Jo said in a surly voice returning to the table.

"Hang on, back up the truck," Nash piped up, "I know you guys said this chopper was fast, but Mach One? No way Man!" he dismissed.

Jo raised her eyebrows at her son, challenging his knowledge over hers even though she couldn't blame his reasoning.

Turning back to Branson, Jo levelled with him."There were other variants made Branson, but each of them were destroyed by our Airwolf after falling into enemy hands. You must remember that she was practically held hostage by String, he was arguably the best chopper pilot of his time and The Lady may have met with the same fate, had he not kept her hidden the way he did." Jo said shrewdly, "but it is intriguing that there were no more built thereafter, maybe your friend Archangel could shed some light on that."

"You guys are blowing my mind!" Nash mumbled as he ran a hand though his hair, "String stole this machine?" He asked, waving to the photo's on the table.

He earned a guilty nod from his mother, who was after all, also an accessory.

_Our Airwolf_.

Branson smiled at the innate fondness that the helicopter brought without Jo even realising.

He nodded "Ah, I see. That indeed is interesting, isn't it?" Branson asked thoughtfully. "It would appear then, that any of Airwolf's design history might have disappeared with her, I will investigate that further and also why all the abrupt interest all of a sudden."

Caitlin was deep in thought, "Could it have something to do with Russia?" she asked out of the Blue.

The group all looked to her, perplexed.

"Why would you say that? I mean we know that there's been a bit of _friendly_ chit chat lately, but then the Russians aren't the only ones, are they?" Nash countered.

"Because Nash, Airwolf largely came about due to the Cold War." Caitlin answered. "That little shot over the bow that nearly traded paintwork near the Philippines last month might start to wake up a few of the key players from the past, Archangel included." She sighed before, shrugging, "I might just be grasping at straws, a coincidence maybe."

"Rule 39" Le stated, speaking for the first time in the current conversation. The TV show NCIS was a favourite of his.

"There's no such things as a coincidence." Everyone apart from Branson said at once.

Branson's trademark grin creeping back onto his face.


	3. 2 Open The Lock

**2**

**Open the Lock**

"Archangel." Branson answered after picking up his cell.

"Richards." Michael returned a greeting. "By the sound of that, I assume that you've talked to someone at Santini Air. How are Caitlin and Jo these days?" he drawled with an air of arrogance.

"Fine, fine, they're both fine," Branson answered knowing that Michael wasn't really interested in their welfare, so much as they're position with this Airwolf project. "But I'll be sure to let them know you asked next time I have a cup of tea with them," he said, suggesting their familiarity.

Michael cleared his throat, "so, what have you learned?" He asked.

"That you're not on their Christmas card list." Branson said in a deadpan tone.

"You wound me Richards." Michael said flippantly. "But, I guess that's not really that much of a surprise, now is it?" he conceded.

"No, not really," Branson ran a hand through his trade mark grown out, longish grey-blonde hair.

"It'll hurt you more I think, by me saying that even if their cooperation were favourable, they really have no idea where Saint John or the helicopter is and before you ask. No, all they kept were their memories some of which, they wish they didn't have and they haven't uttered a word that remotely references that chopper since Saint John took her. I had to play dirty and prey on Le's emotions to get them to eventually talk. They had tried to look for the man without success. Nash was completely unaware."

"Hm." Michael hummed in disappointment. "I thought as much, Airwolf was before Nash's time and Le, well that boy was a kid on a visit. So, your story makes sense."

"I'm glad it meets your approval," Branson said, not hiding his irritation. He was not at all impressed in being asked for, what was essentially a favour and then being judged for it.

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, Michael had to remember that Branson wasn't an operative, and that he likely had his own agenda. To what end, he didn't know, but he did know he needed to keep him on side. He made a note to watch him more closely, especially now that he'd wedged his foot firmly in the Santini door. "I see you've also played dirty in your procurement of Nash Majors. Well played Sir."

Michael had played right into Branson's hand by revealing how deep he'd dug to find that Branson now owned the repossession business. He'd made sure to bury that fact deep in paper work just to pre-empt how important this government agency found his involvement…. and he agreed, it was well played because now, Nash and Le were both under his protection as was Santini Air, he'd managed to connect them all to him. That connection was why Archangel was trying to negotiate with him, they certainly couldn't do the same with those four people so long as he or the words "Government Agency" were involved. That ship sailed long ago.

Yes, playing dirty had paid off dividends and he had already decided what he wanted to do.

Continue to play dirty with Mr Clean.

Branson chuckled, "Come now Michael, you know that I need to know more before I try an convince my very best recourses to challenge their family loyalty." Branson smiled into the phone. "You've given me very little to go on with regards to Airwolf. All I know is that it's an attack helicopter that goes past the speed of Mach one without disintegrating and that's no secret at Santini. So, why not just build another?" he asked to confirm what he, Caitlin and the lovely Jo already suspected.

Archangel chuckled mirthlessly "Don't you think if we could replicate that sort of technology, that we would have?"

"Of course! That thought had certainly crossed my mind," Branson stated almost rolling his eyes, "so let's get this straight. Are you telling me that no one in your entire highly trained, highly classified Government agency thought to keep plans of any sort for this game changing weapon?"

"Oh, we did, Richards," Michael's frustration resurfaced from that time, long ago. "But all of Airwolf's blueprints were erased in …. in an incident," he said as he touched his eye patch and remembered the first time Airwolf was stolen leaving him with a limp and sight in only one eye. He'd warned The Firm that Moffett was a loose cannon.

"An incident?" Branson said when he caught the disconcerting note to Michael's voice, "is that another word for fuckup?" he said, not being able to suppress his occasional inappropriate wit.

"Sometimes doing a deal with the devil will lead you into the fire," Michael mumbled, reluctantly agreeing.

Branson chuckled at that, "Ah, I see" he said in complete understanding. Dancing with devils was always a risky, but sometimes it was a necessary evil. He grinned at himself.

"Anyway, bottom line is, we need to find that chopper. I have my orders." Michael had been given the hurry on by top brass and that helicopter was the only thing that existed to be able to recreate itself.

"We? I don't remember agreeing to help you Michael." Branson said as he set an annoyed tone to his voice even though internally, he remained rather amused.

Michael let out a frustrated groan, "What do you want Richards?"

"All the information on Airwolf you have." Branson paused, "and Michael?"

"Yeah?" Michael braced for what came next, he was beginning to regret the decision to approach him for assistance. Branson was intended to be somewhat of an ally but was now proving to be a challenging adversary.

"Make sure you let me know who's giving you orders."

They had a greed to meet in Branson's LA hotel penthouse, which he had checked by his security.

_How interesting_, Branson thought, as he tipped out the meagre contents of the envelope onto the coffee that Michael had handed him only a few minutes previously.

"That's it?" Branson asked in surprise.

"That's it." Michael nodded at the collection of papers and one old eighties floppy disk.

Branson picked up the thin manila folder and started to flick through it. He chuckled, "The Airborne Military Reconnaissance Bureau, I see it's a specialist division of the NRO," he read out, looking up at Michael, who merely nodded before Branson's attention returned back into the file.

Department of Defence - File A56-7W. Which was basically an internal 'wanted' document from when Stringfellow Hawke had taken Airwolf into his possession. – _Stolen was definitely the story of her life._

Personnel Files on Stringfellow Hawke, Saint John Hawke, Dominic Santini, Caitlin O'Shannessy and Jo Santini. Followed by newer documents on Le Van Hawke and Nash Majors too. – _no real surprise there_.

Photos of Red Star Control – The FIRM's testing facility. Pictures both before and after Airwolf had her way with it. When Moffett was at the controls. - _Impressive demolition work._

Some flying stills of the chopper, with weapons systems both in deployed and retracted positions. –_ I can see why she's called The Lady. They're all beautiful with the ability to destroy._

Recent photos and a copy of a Search Warrant to let them into String's still empty cabin. -_to cover their arse._

A sequence of stills unearthed a single floppy disk that had fallen into a gap between the floorboards. The documents were dated just after Michael approached Branson the first time. They'd been crawling all over and under that place. The thought of it creeped him out, especially since the people who were closest to the Hawke brothers likely had no idea.

Branson picked up the disk and waved it in front of him, "What's the significance of the disk?" he narrowed his eyes at the white haired man with a patch over his eye. "What's on it?"

"It contains some sort of code that we've got our people on, but it seems to be computer specific, we just don't have anything that can decipher it at this point. I've stuck my neck out to get that for you, and I had to convince the Director to hand it over so Le can have a look at it." Michael said candidly.

"Oh, how very good of you," Branson said with a sarcastic note.

Michael gave a weak smile knowing that the next point he made, would tweak Branson's interest. "We think it might be specific to Airwolf's computer systems"

And it did, though Branson kept a poker face, "Only useful then, if we have Airwolf, which we don't." He shook his head, stating the bleeding obvious. "Michael, I'm just not sure there's enough here to go on."

Michael tightened his lips, knowing that Branson was right, but he had to try. He was out of options and America needed an Airwolf idea to stay ahead in the Defence race, especially with all the unrest that was currently infiltrating through from the East.

Michael rose from his seat as Branson gathered the information and returned it back to the envelope. "I'll take this to Santini Air and see if Le is willing to look into that disk."

Michael nodded in thanks and the men shook hands before Branson escorted the other man from the suite. Closing the door after him, he contacted his detail before scheduling another meeting with Santini Air.

Jo had a little more time to prepare for Branson's visit this time around and decided that a take-away meal just wouldn't do. She imagined that a nice homecooked meal would be something he likely didn't get to enjoy all too often. Luckily, there was a break room – come - kitchen at Santini Air and she could therefore make everything fresh. She chose her famous grass fed slow cooked beef casserole. The delicious smell had permeated from the oven over the last few hours. Jo had only just gotten rid of the natives and their relentless whining over how hungry they were and was currently mashing potatoes. The apple and rhubarb pie would be ready to eat when desert came along.

"Knock knock," came his voice making her jump clear out of her skin, causing her to yep and almost knock the bowl off the counter.

"You scared the shit outa me!" Jo scolded, "Do you always sneak up on people like that? Gees, way to give a girl a heart attack," she rambled, holding her hand over her rapidly beating heart.

"Sorry," Branson chuckled, completely delighted at Jo's uninhibited reaction.

"No, I don't think you are, Branson," Jo said knowing full well by the look on his face before she glanced up at the clock hanging over the doorway he was standing under, "You're early," she pointed out.

"Yes I am, I just thought I'd ask to do a sweep of this place for anything electronic that shouldn't be here,"

"You think that's necessary?"

"Hmm" he briefly nodded, the humour falling from his face.

"Ok, I'll be done in about five minutes, I've made enough for everyone," she smiled.

"Smells delicious," his smile lit up his face before he turned and left the room leaving her to finish making the mash and set out all the plates and cutlery on the bench to self-serve.

Branson's men scoured every inch of the boardroom and adjacent areas, sweeping an electronic handset through the rooms to make sure they were clear. He couldn't be too sure who might have been listening to what he was going to discuss this evening.

Aside from the magnificent homemade meal, the evening had elements of déjà vu in the boardroom from the last time. The five associates chatted amicably, only now with more laid back familiarity.

The crew looked through the information, none of which really led to anything new. It wasn't surprising but still somewhat disappointing. "What do you know of Dr Moffett?" Branson asked taking a sip of water.

Caitlin smiled sadly, "Airwolf's evil Dr Jekyll designer. Much less than what Archangel can tell you of him, I'm afraid. Moffett died during String's first mission to bring Airwolf back from Libya." Caitlin said, remembering the conversation she'd had with Dom one day. She left out the bit that Moffett had tortured String's girlfriend, Gabrielle to death, who went after him to return the favour. "I came into the piece much, much later and I only found out about him, when The Lady was infected with a logic bomb that Moffett had built into her. He was never mentioned otherwise, he sure was a sore point."

Branson made note of that before he pulled the disk from his brief and held it up to show everyone.

"Jeepers, that thing's older than I am!" Nash laughed, the others looking on with amusement.

"Yes, well this," Branson waved it the air, was collected by Michael's people from Mr Hawke's cabin not that long ago."

"What!?" Caitlin said, as she leaned forward with her eyes wide.

Jo glared at the disk, her objection clear on her face and the boy's looked on.

"Strings place has been empty for years, I hope they had a warrant," Caitlin said angrily and flopped back in her seat with her arms crossed in disgust.

"They did, but it does show the extent of how far they'll go for every snippet of information they can get and that's why I had this place scanned earlier, I don't think we can be too careful about watching our p's and q's." Branson said in all seriousness, letting that sink in, for a few seconds.

"What are you saying Branson? That you're not playing nice with Archangel?" Jo asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Something like that," he answered with a shrug, "maybe more like not playing with him like he thinks I will. There was a bug underneath the table by the way," he winked at her. The look of surprise stunning all four of his hosts into silence for a few moments as the gravity dawned on them further.

Nash broke the silence by clearing his throat, "So, what's on it?" he asked nodding at the disk.

"Ah!" Branson's face lit up, his normal jovial manner returning, "That is a good question!" he said before repeating what Archangel had told him about the disk earlier.

"So, none of the Government boffins have been able to crack it?" Le asked.

"Apparently not," Branson answered, handing Le the disk.

"Computer specific you say?" Le continued thoughtfully, turning the object in his hands.

"That's what they deduced. Yes." Branson confirmed.

"Hm," Le hummed sceptically, "Well, I'd like to have a look at it in any case, has anyone got a floppy drive lying about?" Le asked, he quite serious while Nash just laughed out loud at the thought.

Jo narrowed her eyes at him, "The idea might seem preposterous to you Wings, but some of us worked with this technology and may have an old computer stored up on the mezzanine," she said with mild sarcasm and a smile on her face.

It was found quickly and in no time at all, Le had set up the old PC, hoping that the relic would start up. The distinct beep sounded just after the cooling fan started. It seemingly took forever to boot up and indicate that it was ready to work.

"Here goes nothing," Le slid the disk into the drive, causing the machine to whir and beep as Le manipulated keyboard for lack of the corded mouse that they couldn't find. The old screen left a lot to be desired and Le's fingers flew, but all to no avail. All this disk held was random text and numbers in no particular order. Le tried a few things but didn't recognise any the usual types of encryption that he was familiar with, which meant he didn't even have a place to start. Archangels tech'sperts might have been onto something with their suggestion that it was computer specific. Le shook his head, "I've done my share of snooping in my time and I don't recognise any of this, I suspect that we really do need the right hardware to figure it out."

"Hmmm" Branson hummed in deep thought, "we have nothing then, do we?"

"I'll need more time to know for sure, it's not something that I can tell you in five minutes or even an hour. But the fact that Archangel's team have already spent the time and been unsuccessful with their advanced systems certainly points to that." he said, ejecting the disk and handing it back to Branson before shutting down the old computer.

Jo ran her hands over her slightly greying, dark blonde hair, pushing it back from her face, "So what do we do now?" she said as she laced her fingers together behind her neck.

Branson watched her movements closely, but had to check himself that he didn't stare, or the others might see how enamoured he really was with her. Snapping out of it, he answered truthfully "I'm not really sure where we go from here, can you think of anything else that might carry a clue to where Saint John or Airwolf might be?"

Jo dropped her hands and wracked her brain. Caitlin prodded her and leaned in to whisper, "can I talk to you?" Jo nodded and excused herself and her friend to get the dessert together from the kitchen.

"Do you trust him?" Caitlin asked as she cut up the pie while Jo fetched the cream and ice cream from the fridge.

"I trust him more than I would Archangel, and he seems to have the same idea about him as we do after his last meeting with him, but I really don't know." Jo whispered back.

"Well, we've been dragged into this now. He basically owns all of us." Caitlin said, sound quite resigned by the fact.

"Yeah, but it has also given us a shield from this new agency, hasn't it? Either way I think if we're going to be owned by someone, I know who I'd choose." Jo said with a shrug, as she spooned the creams onto the plated pie slices.

"Huh," Caitlin uttered as she put two and two together.

"What?" Jo looked up at her friend when the silence started to become awkward.

"You want to know what I think?" Caitlin asked, not waiting for Jo to answer, "I think you like him," she said, lifting one side of her mouth.

"Don't be ridiculous, I barely know him," Jo answered as her face heated indicating the contrary. "But I'm guessing my trust in Branson isn't the only thing you wanted to talk about?" she asked, diverting the conversation.

Caitlin shook her head, "No, but that disk had me thinking, we still have the computer at the Lair, it's compatible to The Lady's systems, what if…"

Jo couldn't stop the smile that nor her eyes growing larger on her face, "Holy smoke you're right! You're a damn genius you know that?"

"I don't know about that, so do we tell him?" Caitlin asked as the girls cleaned up after themselves.

Jo thought for a moment before answering. "If we don't, we definitely won't have a chance to find Saint John and if we do, well we know there's no guarantee, but certainly can't hurt to try," she said knowing there was no way any of them could drop this now, "but, I would like to know Branson's intentions before we tell him."

"I just bet you would," Caitlin said in a teasing tone as they gathered the plates and carried them back to the boardroom.

"Enough of that!" Jo grumbled, "We need to know that he'll keep the Lair's location a secret." She whispered as the girls neared the door.

"Ok, I'll follow your lead." Caitlin and Jo nodded their agreement with Jo quickly stepped over to the reception area where Branson's security were lounging about.

"Dessert's sitting on the counter, don't let the ice cream melt" she said holding up the two plates to show them.

"Thanks Ms Santini!" the man called David waved his acknowledgement.

"We could get used to this Dave," the other guy said under his breath. Jo smiled as she overheard, heading back up the hall and through the boardroom door.

"There you go," she placed one of the plates in front of their guest.

"Thank you very much," he rubbed is hands together, "it looks delicious, you're spoiling me," he complimented.

"We have to butter you up somehow don't we?" She said cryptically before sitting herself back down in her chair.

Branson paused at her tone and gave her his full attention, clasping his hands in front of him. "Sounds ominous?"

"Can I be blunt with you Mr Richards?" she started.

"By all means, Ms Santini," he said with a playful grin.

And that of course sent a nervous pang through Jo's chest, but she held her own and didn't break eye contact, "Y-you said earlier, that you weren't going to play with Michael like he thinks you're going to."

"Yes, yes that's right," he nodded giving Jo a short reprieve because this wasn't really a joking matter.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked directly, before looking down at her desert and loading some deliciousness onto her spoon.

He smiled at that, he'd known what he meant by that well before he said it, he'd made up his mind when he and Michael had their meeting. He didn't like the way that The man was only referring to recovering a machine. No matter the cost he expected, because Saint John was never mentioned, nor did they inform these people that they were going to search Stringfellow's empty home. Not that they technically needed to, but in Branson's book, it was all about the principal of it.

Here he was with this beautiful tight nit unit, they weren't all related but still had each other's back, strengthening one another in whatever fields they chose but still helping one another at their core, here at Santini Air. If they were going to help in this search, it was for Saint John first, because they knew that if Airwolf stayed MIA, Saint John was safer than if he were found. He literally stole that chopper right out from under the Governments nose, unlike the deal of sorts that was made when the other Hawke brother had possession of her. Branson didn't think that the AMRB would take too kindly to him once they got their hands on him.

Aside from that, Branson sure could use a new project to challenge his sense of adventure. If he was able to help find Saint John, then maybe Airwolf would be the lovely bonus to find along with him. To uncover the secrets of this chopper could stand to make him a world leader in the aerospace industry.

That and he would dearly love to spend a little more time getting to know at least one of the fine people sitting with him a little better.

"Why, Ms Santini, you know what they say about Vegas. That goes for Santini too."

"Is that literally or figuratively Branson?" Jo countered strongly with a hint of a smile.

Branson was well pleased with this lady's negotiating tenacity, she wasn't one to roll over, which was a quality he looked for in all of the key people in his life, "That extends all the way to where this search might lead us Ms Santini. Although I have to warn you that we'll have to work very carefully as to not tip off anyone who's looking for the same thing if you get my drift," he beamed, hoping against hope that he'd put Jo and the others at ease enough to push through.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Branson." Jo smiled, looking to her side to gauge Caitlin's reaction, "Do you have anything to add?" she asked her friend.

"No hon, I think you got this," Caitlin said looking somewhat relieved that it had been said and satisfied with the answers. Their boys were looking on, somewhat perplexed at the course of the conversation.

"Okay then, gentlemen." Jo called the men to attention, "knowing that this doesn't go any further, Cait and I might have a lead worth chasing up."

The Lair was the nickname of the place that String and Dom had kept Airwolf hidden from everyone including The FIRM. A cavernous natural rock formation formed from the crater and lava pipe of an extinct volcano out in the desert. It was quite a drive to get there and there weren't any roads, so you had to drive there like you flew and commit landmarks to memory. It was hard to navigate with so many areas looking the same and it was fortunate then, that desert country didn't change much with the absence of any significant vegetation and that the two women could still remember how to get there.

It was agreed that once the convoy left the bitumen, the girls would drive the SUV's and Branson and his men would be blindfolded with their boys making sure there was no peeking. "I'm sorry" Jo said again as she gently tied the blind fold around Branson's head.

"It's ok, I understand, it's a smart move," he assured her once more, "I'm sure it will be a wonderful surprise," he said, his excitement building with every moment they drove over the bumpy landscape. If Le and one of his men weren't in the car with him, he'd have thought it quite erotic.

It was early and the day after their last meeting at Santini Air. They needed to take advantage of having the disk in their possession while they could still use "looking into it" as an excuse. Which wasn't a lie at all, just that the location was not at the office. Jo elected not to tell the boys what their lead was entirely, but instead decided to show them as to play their cards more safely. The two women were the only people alive apart from Saint John, who knew where The Lair was and until they could find out if the disk showed something via that big old computer. This was the only way they could keep it that way, with only their sons having some idea.

An hour later, the cars were plunged into darkness as they drove into a tunnel that led to the main space.

With blindfolds finally off, they all exited the cars and took in their surroundings. "This is The Lair," Jo's voice echoed into the cavernous space.

Gathering everything they might need, Jo and Caitlin led everyone through the extinct volcano except for the bodyguards - who stayed behind.

Le gaped like a fish out of water, while Nash couldn't contain himself any longer "Holy Shit," he blurted out, "this is unreal!".

Branson was euphoric as his wide eyes took in as much detail as they could. "what he said," he craned his neck to look skyward to the open air above. A shaft of light illuminated the huge space where he imagined Airwolf once stood. The girls could almost hear her as she rose up and out of the crater. To their left, was another lava tube that housed a platform, and perched on top, was a U shaped structure covered with drop sheets. A minute later it was uncovered revealing what would have been a supercomputer in its day, it was the size of a small bedroom. "this is basically the main frame diagnostic computer for Airwolf. It read her issues and was brought here to try to figure out that logic bomb that Moffet installed. We thought that disk might be compatible with it and give us something, what do you think Le?"

"I think it's more than worth a try," he said in hope and thought of what might come from this.

"Good, now there's a generator down the way," Caitlin said gesturing further down the lava tube, "I'm not sure if any of this will work, it's been sitting here since …., anyway, can you boys grab those jerry cans we brought with us please, we might need to drain the tank and lines.

Half an hour later after a bit of mucking around, the generator putted to life, and the florescent lights that hung above the computer area, lit up for the first time in decades. Luckily the constant, cool and dry conditions in The Lair were fairly ideal for any sort of preservation. They all hoped that the computer would similarly come to life.

Caitlin did the honours and tuned the power on to all the separate components as she remembered.

Heart's in mouths they watched the collection of old gear light up and come to life. "Ok, I guess it's now or never, she said after typing in the password _The Lady_ to get to the standby screen and the Airwolf insignia of a wolf's head clad in a sheep skin disguise graced the monitor in green. "Let's try that disk and see what happens." Caitlin said when all the screens appeared as they had so many years ago.

Branson pulled it from his jacket pocket, handing it to Caitlin's outstretched hand and with everybody looking on in anticipation, she inserted it into one of the drives and waited for the read. Moments later, another password was asked for, "Okay, well that's better I guess, not just a bunch of gobbledigook. Right?" Jo asked Le.

"Yeah," he agreed, "now we need to figure out the password," he asked, "We could be here a while."

All the obvious words were tried. In the end it was decided that Le would try his hacking skills.

It was five hours and a picnic lunch later before Le got onto something. "Ah-huh," Le mumbled. "So glad I took those big, thick, books out of the library on ASM, when I was a kid."

_Access_ _Key Detected_

"So what we have here is a disk with an unlocking code that is definitely specific to the Airwolf computers, thanks to Archangels computer geeks, we got a great head start finding that out. The disk is useless anywhere else because it's literally full of text and numbers that no other computer in the world is programmed to recognise There's no actual information on it.

"So, without that seemingly random letter and number sequence you can't get into certain programs within _this_ mainframe. It's simple when you have the tools but really hard to get them in the first place, like anything computer based in the eighties. Anyway, we can get in now," he said as he clicked on the icon and a list of hidden programs were revealed.

"Oh wow, these look like all the flight tracks Airwolf made." Nash noted as Le opened one window after another.

"I don't think they are Wings," Caitlin pointed out. "It doesn't look like any of the missions are on here. These look like flights made unbeknownst to The Firm."

"Well, that's interesting, when was the last entry?" Branson asked, thinking quickly and hoping his hunch was right.

His question triggered a realisation in all of them. Could they be lucky enough? Le scrolled to the last item on the list and the date was indeed the last day they saw Saint John. They all looked at each other, could it be?

The excitement could be felt throughout the group as Le opened the file tentatively.

It took quite a while for the computer to think, but once the graphic map came up on the screen Le froze.

"Looks like Saint John traded one desert location for another," Nash said leaning over Le's shoulder for a closer look.

Le continued to stare at the screen. A million thoughts were flashing through his mind. Could his father be in South America?

Caitlin read Le's melancholy mood and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder adding "And so far, it's proven the ideal place to disappear to," she took a closer look. The flight path ended in the central area of the Atacama Desert near the small town of San Pedro. She took a different kind of screen shot with her phone, which unlike this almost steam driven mainframe, had no reception way out here among the rock formations.

"I just hope that they both made it in once piece." Le said apprehensively.

"Well" Branson said in his as usual upbeat style, "there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"


	4. 3 Road To Nowhere

3

The Road To Nowhere

Branson received a phone call halfway back to Santini Air from his electronics analysist about the bug found under the boardroom table. After a few "Ah ha's, I see's and thank you's," the call was over, he cleared his throat announcing, "the listening device wasn't operating, it was a really old model and it was likely planted years ago, so no need to worry," he gave a satisfactory smile, "but I think it would be a great idea to check regularly from now on and be really aware who you let into your office area."

They agreed to reconvene the next day. Branson needed to tidy up a few things, figure out how the next move could best be executed and suggested everyone rest up as best they could.

Once back at the hangar, Le couldn't get out of the car quick enough leaving the others a little worried.

Sensing that Caitlin needed to talk to him, Branson politely excused himself and drove away with his men. The others made their way inside leaving only her and Le out the front.

After a moment of silence she finally asked an agitated Le, "What's wrong honey?"

Le shrugged. "Just trying to process it all, when are we going?" He said avoiding eye contact.

"Going?" Caitlin asked.

Le's body language was evasive, it was the way he sometimes got when he was stuck inside his head.

"To find my father." Le said with his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sure we'll figure out something soon, but for now, we have to sit tight." Caitlin said, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to placate him.

"What?!" Le wrenched away from her, "We've got the first solid bit of evidence in thirty years and you all want to do is sit tight?" he asked, his voice rising an octave in disbelief.

"Le, we can't just go…"

Caitlin couldn't even finish her sentence before Le let out a loud, "This is Bullshit!" and stormed off.

"Le!" Cait called after him, following in an attempt to try to stop him. She couldn't though. Le ran straight to his truck and took next to no time to peel out of the lot moments later with only blue smoke and the smell of rubber left lingering in the air.

After hearing the ruckus from inside of the building, Jo and Nash headed out front and found Caitlin with her hands on her hips and staring after her adopted son as his car disappeared from Airport limits.

"Cait, what's going on?" Jo asked.

Caitlin merely answered, "He wants to find his father."

"Don't we all?" Jo agreed, not really asking the question.

"You want me to go after him?" Nash asked.

Caitlin shook her head, "No, let him cool off, I'm sure we'll come up with a plan in a day or two, we can't just go off like a bull at a gate, not with Archangel hovering around." She pointed out before they all made their way back into the building to finish up for the day.

Branson knew, that before going out to try and find anything, there were things that needed to be sorted out.

First of all he had to make sure that Michael and AMRB were both off the scent as much as possible to buy some time. He'd already laid down a few foundation stones before receiving the items that included the disk. He had a lot of resources at his disposal and he'd have been bonkers not to implement them.

The fact that Michael had shown immense interest in the four key people that were currently all linked to Airwolf was one thing. But now that Branson had intrinsically linked them all to him, it would prove problematic from here on in. It would have been easier if Branson could keep Michael's focus just on him or just on them.

But he couldn't always have it both ways.

That didn't mean he wouldn't try though.

"Richards," Michael said the moment the hotel door was opened the next morning.

Crossing the threshold almost before Branson could welcome him inside, he asked "what have you got for me?"

"Tea?" Branson asked, sarcastically. What was it with the egos of these operatives, they acted more like mob bosses from old cinema. It wasn't becoming of a guest, nor of a gentleman.

"No, thank you," he registered as Branson bristled, before the Englishman gestured for Michael to sit on the overstuffed leather couch.

Sitting, Branson followed his lead.

"Well?" Michael pressed after a moment.

"Nothing unfortunately," Branson covered up his mild annoyance with a cool veneer. "It's going to take way too long for one man to work out whatever's on the disk, and I was lucky that I could even get Le to look at it considering the circumstances. I feel it's better off in your hands where you can put a team back onto it," he said placing the whole file on the coffee table and sliding it toward his visitor.

"Hm, yeah, we knew it was a long shot," Michael said, nodding thoughtfully. "I expect that you copied all that?" Michael asked, with a pointed look from his one eye as he reached for the folder.

"Naturally," Branson grinned, the smile not reaching his eyes.

"So, what about you Richards?" he asked, placing the file on his lap whilst he reclined.

Branson looked at Michael sceptically. "What about me?"

"Well, we sure could use your," he said with a purposeful pause, "_resources_ to help us out here."

"I'm sure you could," Branson answered, scoffing internally.

"Can I ask you a question?" Michael continued.

"You can, but I might not answer it." Branson said, leaving Michael with no doubt that he wasn't about to divulge anything he didn't want to.

A tight smile formed on Michaels lips, "I have to wonder why your intense interest in these people Richards?"

"It's business," he said truthfully, "so what's your excuse?"

"Touché Richards," Michael chuckled, "We'll be keeping in touch." He rose from his sitting position.

"I'm sure you will," Branson mimicked Michael's action and the men shook hands before Michael was shown the door.

Not five minutes later, while Branson was having that cup of tea, his cell rang. It was Jo. Embarrassed that a man of his age could still get butterfly's in his stomach, he answered the phone with a giddy smile, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Le's missing." Jo said with an earnest tone.

The smile dropped from his face, "Are you sure?" he asked the concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, he stormed out after you left last night, we thought he just went home to be alone, so we let him know we'd leave him be, by text. Cait stayed with Nash and I overnight. He didn't come into Santini this morning and hadn't answered his phone. We're at Cait's place now and there's no sign of him, or his truck, but his phone's here. We think he's driving to Chile."

"Shit. That'll take him weeks" Branson said, swearing under his breath, "Why wouldn't he fly?" he asked in surprise.

"He doesn't fly," Jo informed.

"Oh. Well, that leaves us all in a bit of a dilemma then, doesn't it?" he asked to no one in particular, as he scratched his head. "Do you know when he left?"

"No, we checked Cait's Security Camera's, but the one fixed to the front of the house wasn't working. Or rather, Le likely disabled it."

"Ok, I guess it's all a moot point now. We need to get things moving along a little earlier than expected. I'll head to Santini Air, see you there?" he asked.

"We'll be there," Jo answered and then hung up.

Branson groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, this was not ideal. Michael would have everyone under close surveillance. Just waiting for them to do something. The man wasn't stupid, he would know the moment one of the group would be making a move contrary to what was discussed in the hotel room earlier. At least the AMRB couldn't use his phone to track him. But by the same token, that meant he and the others would have trouble finding Le too. At least they already had some idea of where he was going. But it was heading him off before someone else found him that was the problem.

Branson arrived at Santini Air in a single car and only with David by his side this time. Jo, Caitlin and Nash were already waiting for him and they were all understandably on edge. "We've decided that Nash and I are going after Le," Caitlin said as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Sure, you could try that, but don't you think that Michael would have already notified customs to look out for all of us at this point and aren't there almost 50 border crossings to choose to drive through? How do you know which one he'll be using?" Branson asked.

Nash's jaw clenched knowing Branson had a point, but he didn't know Le as well as Nash did, "After a few trips to Cancun over the years, I'm pretty sure we'll be able to catch him before he crosses the border near El Paso, it's familiar to him and it's the shortest way south. We can still make it with one fuel stop at Tucson. We're taking our Bell 430."

"Wouldn't a fixed wing get you there faster?"

"Where's _there_ Richards?" Nash asked glaring at him with a raised eyebrow "We're not going to Chile, we're going after Le and may need to put down somewhere, anywhere, can't do that with any fixed wing we have here," he informed.

Jo interrupted, "Wings!" She gave him a clip board and a log book and shooed him off. "Branson, the 430 still has her long range tanks in from the last remote job it did. She can fly a thousand miles at a time, and she's got some good camera gear on board, so is the best thing we have at short notice."

Branson was reminded of a few things. That firstly, these people were family. Secondly, they were all likely some of the best pilots he would ever meet. And three, all had military style training and some type of combat experience whether official or otherwise. They knew how to scramble and call to action with the tools they had to work with.

On the contrary he, while extremely organised and expert at planning, was far more methodical and had usually the luxury to think over things before proceeding. "If you manage to catch up with him, do you think you can convince him to come back?" Sir Richard asked.

"Not likely," Caitlin said, "but we're sure as hell gonna try."

"If we can't, we'll just _make_ him," Nash said looking up from his paperwork.

"Wings!" Jo scolded again.

Nash scoffed "What? Wouldn't be the first time we've had to calm down that drama llama." he said, revealing a little more to Le's complex personality.

"You're such an asshole," Caitlin cursed him.

"Whatever it takes," Nash shrugged.

"Ok, ok!" Jo said, holding up her hands to try and calm things down again, "can we all agree that we just have to find him first?"

"Well? What are we waiting for? Times-a ticking" Nash tapped at his wrist watch, before picking up his documents to leave.

"Has anyone checked LAX?" Sir Richard asked.

"He won't be at LAX" Caitlin shook her head. "He doesn't fly Branson. Like ever."

"Hmm, yes, yes, Jo said something about that, but people will do some pretty whacky things if they're desperate." Branson pointed out.

"He. Doesn't. Fly." Nash said abruptly, "Anyway," he sighed, "I'm going to do a pre-flight, we need to get going," he pushed past them towards the hangar door.

Caitlin followed and Branson was left there with Jo feeling very much at a loss.

"Le watched my husband die in a formation crash at an air show only a short time after he was adopted, as a result from that and other trauma he endured as a kid, he suffers from PTSD," Jo said sadly.

"I see, I'm sorry to hear that," Branson empathised, "Yet he continues to torture himself by working in the industry?"

Jo bit her lip and nodded, "Yeah, I think it gives him some semblance of control, to know that the systems be builds, will be the best available to install into aircraft and increase ease of use and also safety." She shrugged, "If it gives him that comfort, then who are we to tell him otherwise and I'm sure glad he's on our side."

"Yes, me too, he does wonderful work," Branson said knowingly.

"Well, I'd better help get that bird in the air," Jo nodded toward the hangar door, "and Branson?" she grabbed his attention, "I don't think it would hurt to check the Airport," she said as she started to walk past him "I really hope that he's not actually trying to drive all the way to Chile," and then mumbled, "it's way more dangerous than flying."

There were multiple airlines throughout the day that Le could have flown with, so going down to LAX in person without knowing the flight number was a pretty pointless exercise. Besides, he could have already departed.

Branson opted instead, to call "his people" to check if Le had booked any flights. After a few minutes, it was found that Le's name didn't come up on any manifests. Then they also got the job to contact any rest stops along the route that they thought Le was taking. Jo sorted the most recent photos of the man and his truck and they were distributed. They just hoped that it didn't trigger someone to call the police with missing person's report, they didn't need the authorities tipping anybody off.

Until then, that was all they could continue to do to try to find him in time. That, or they'd have to concede that Le had made it across border and that would serve to complicate things further.

The sleek silver machine lifted off and a minute later, could be seen hurtling away from the Airport limits. It left the area around them quite by comparison, with only more distant airport noises coming from the other companies that surrounded them at Van Nuys.

Cait and Nash tracked the Bell 430 down toward Tucson. They had no idea where Le would be, because they didn't know what time he'd left. They'd take about three hours to fly the 780 kilometres and they didn't have to fly conspicuously low since they had their camera gear to zoom in on any trucks that looked like Le's to check number plates. Times sure had changed since the days where the camera operator tried to control a monstrosity on a mount that took up all the room of an exit and to see the shot, they had to just about completely hang out of the door in any sort of weather. Now, hi tech, compact, lightweight cameras of all sorts could be mounted underneath the chopper, seeing more with high mobility and 360 degrees of visibility, while allowing the camera technician to stay in the comfort of the cabin with a screen and control console.

The pair took a strong interest in any gas stations along the way. If they were lucky enough to find him, they'd flag him down Santini style.

That was all fine in theory, but what if they couldn't find him?

That didn't bare thinking about.

Not long after they'd refuelled at Tucson, they made a circuit around yet another comfort stop, when Cait gasped in surprise. "Hold up, I think I got something!" she shot her hand out to touch Nash in urgency. Nash took the chopper around again to hover as she trained the camera onto a truck that looked like Le's. Zooming in, her heart skipped a beat and her eyes grew large, "That's it!" she beamed, "that's his truck!"

A minute later they set the helicopter down, the carpark was largely empty and ran toward the RAM. It was parked near the Motel right behind a Taco Bell with no other vehicles parked close by. Caitlin's joy was short lived however, when they found the truck's door ajar with the keys still in the ignition.

The two looked at each other surmising the worst. "Shit!" Nash exclaimed. As they looked around them for any useful signs. After a few more expletives, their muddled thoughts cleared, and Nash checked the truck. All Le's stuff was still there and he popped the hood to check for engine heat.

Nothing. Nash scowled, "c'mon," he urged, before they both headed toward the Motel to ask if Le had checked in.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I can't give out that information," the clerk said in her heavy southern accent, after Caitlin asked about Le.

Nash lightly elbowed Caitlin, to let her know he had this. He made a point of focusing on the woman's nametag pinned over her left breast, "Tiffany is it?" he asked giving the woman in her late thirties his charming, lopsided smile.

"That's what the name says, sugar" she smiled deviously, leaning forward on the reception counter and showing her ample bosom.

Nash couldn't help but look and quickly averted his gaze, a tinge of red colouring his ears. He cleared his throat but continued to smile, "Well Tiffany, you see, my brother Le here," he held a photo up "is sorta missing, and we were wondering if you have any CCTV footage of the lot behind this fine establishment"

"Brother you say?" Tiffany asked, glancing at the photo, then up at Nash, her brow raised in suspicion over the half Asian man in the picture, "sure don't look like your brother," she drawled.

"He's adopted," he winked.

"I'm sure he is," she said, not believing a word Nash said.

Letting him sweat for a moment, this wasn't her first rodeo and she was sure that this handsome fella could charm his way into the hearts of many woman. Not Tiffany though, she owned this _fine establishment_ and wasn't easily swayed by a velvet voice and a crooked smile. "Tell you what cowboy," she gave him a narrowed look, "how about you tell me the truth and we'll see if I can't help ya out."

Nash glanced at Caitlin who, even though she was concerned about Le, was still amused with how Tiffany was running rings around Nash. He had often used those good looks to enrapture the ladies. Ladies that were often young and silly or wanted to get something out of the interaction for themselves. Nash wasn't used to his appeal falling flat and Caitlin saw that, so she offered him a lifeline and stepped in, "Ma'am, Le is my adopted son. Nash is like a brother to him, he received news of his real father and went looking for him, we found his vehicle out in the lot, it was left open with the keys in the ignition" She took a breath, "All we want to know is why the truck was left that way and if you have footage, that would help." she said, surprising herself by how calm she remained, only her eyes betraying her as a tear trickled down her cheek.

Tiffany eyed the both of them, resting her eyes on Nash, "See, wasn't so hard was now was it?" she asked sardonically and sighed. "Ok folks, come out back," she she said with a nod and buzzed the entry door to the back of reception. "No funny business," she warned as they stepped through the door.

"Ma'am?" Caitlin asked, "it would help if we knew when he first checked in. Then we won't have to waste any more of your time then we need to."

"He never checked in," she answered.

"Why didn't you just say so?" Nash asked somewhat annoyed.

"I already told you, we can't really give out that sort of information." Tiffany said, reminding Nash as she brought up the footage from the correct camera. They played around with camera speed until his truck drove into shot and parked up.

It was the end of the day and Branson, to his credit had stayed with Jo to hash out a few options that could take depending on Le's outcome. They had just shut the hanger and decided to stay and wait for Caitlin and Nash to return and got somewhat comfortable on the reception couches, when Jo's cell rang.

Seeing it was Caitlin, Jo sat to attention and answered it straight away, "Cait, please tell me you found him."

"He's been taken," Caitlin said, fighting to hold her emotions together.

"What?" Jo questioned, hoping she'd heard wrong, "I'm putting you on speaker."

Nash spoke up, taking over from Caitlin, "Looks like an organised group of some sort caught up with him just out of Tucson. Unmarked cars, guys in suits, looked pretty well orchestrated, we can't make anyone out, the footage is too grainy," he rushed out, keeping nonsense to a minimum and keeping the emotion out of it.

"You think it's Archangel?" Jo asked glancing at Branson.

"We don't know, look we've got to get back," the chopper could be heard as the engines ignited, "Le's truck will be picked up soon and should be back by morning," he said with a raised voice to combat the background noise.

"Ok, we'll let you know if we hear anything," Branson promised, and the call ended.

"Argghhh!" Jo growled in frustration, running both hands through her thick hair, "I feel so…" she ground her teeth hissing through them, "Useless."

"Hey, hey," Branson said, touching her arm to sooth her. "I know how you feel but, there's nothing we can really do until Nash and Caitlin, get back."

"Intellectually I know that," Jo shrugged, sighing, "but that doesn't stop me from feeling helpless, you know?" Jo looked up at this astonishing man who had firmly become ensconced within all their lives more than anyone would have anticipated. There was a buzz in the air when they made eye contact, but it was sort lived as Branson's cell phone rang this time

Snapping out of it, Branson glanced at the screen, rolling his eyes, his expression hardened, "it's Michael," he breathed out in vexation before answering the device, "Michael." he said with false politeness.

"When were you going to tell me one of your brood had flown the nest?"

"Since when do I answer to you Michael? And I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he said, blatantly lying and not wanting to give anything away. They all knew that they we're being closely monitored, but he was keen to see if Michael could give them more than they could give him.

"Come now Richards, aren't you the least little bit curious where the cage is?" Archangel questioned smugly.

"You seem to be the one telling the story," Branson fished, continuing his casual air.

"Well, you have to have known Le was gone Richards, since he was picked up more than five hundred miles away."

"I'm not Le's keeper Michael, he's a big boy and can go where he like's. But I guess I do wonder who _picked him up_ as you say? Was it you?" He said looking at Jo who was sitting on the edge of her seat and clearly keen to hear both sides of the conversation.

"No, though that would have been preferable," Michael ended the goading tone with seriousness.

"Well then?"

Michael sighed loudly, "We received intel that he was intercepted by an intelligence branch of Russian Aerospace Forces, the VKS. This is a bone of contention with the President, who had more recently announced an executive order to create a counter measure called Space Force. He won't be happy when he finds out one of our own has been kidnapped by the Russians."

"I see," Branson's heart thudded as he registered the gravity of the situation, but thought quickly to draw as much information out of the man with one eye as he could, "One of our own? Le? I fail to link his significance to the Russians?"

"Of course you don't, likely none of you do. This goes way back to when Stringfellow Hawke foiled the Russians when they almost got their hands on Airwolf. They've got a long and chequered history with that gunship. They clearly haven't forgotten it."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling us that we have two military governments after Airwolf?" Branson knitted his eyebrows before glancing up at Jo.

Jo had been intently listening to the one sided conversation and was literally biting her tongue to stop herself uttering a sound, her eyes were wide now at the mention of Russians and she deduced they had captured Le.

After a moment, Michael made a noise of resignation, "It looks like it, Yes," he reluctantly admitted, "Unfortunately, like with their defence integration, it appears that they're one step ahead of us with this one too."

"Really?" Branson asked as a thought crossed his mind like a lightning bolt, "and how far ahead are the Russian's Michael? You wouldn't be suggesting that the very reason you're looking for that chopper is because they caught your attention looking for it first are you?"

Archangel snorted lightly, "Does it matter? Point is we need to find Airwolf before they do."

"And what about Le, Michael?" Branson asked sternly, noting that Jo was almost purple in her impatience to have her say.

"I'm just not sure to tell you the truth, but I can tell you if we had Airwolf, we'd have a better chance to get him back. So, if you know anything, anything at all Richards, I would strongly suggest…"

Branson interrupted him, losing his patience over the situation as it stood, he needed to gather his thoughts and consult with the others before they made their next move "Even if I did, I'm not sure I would tell you Michael, but I'll be sure to let you know if I change my mind," and he hung up letting out a frustrated breath before rubbing his temples.

"Whatever is going on, don't trust a word that comes out of that man's mouth!" Jo blurted out.

Looking up at Jo's defiant expression, he couldn't agree more, "As you Americans say. Shit just got real."


	5. 4 Wolf Hunting Season

**4\. **

**Wolf Hunting Season**

It was hours before Jo and Branson finally heard the Bell 430 beat its way back onto the Santini Apron. By that time, everyone was pretty wrung out but as they say, there was no rest for the wicked and in the time they had been waiting for the chopper's return, Branson and Jo had concluded that in order to have any chance of getting Le back, they needed their own bargaining chip. Archangel was right about one thing, they really needed to find Airwolf.

Branson had already put his pilot on notice to get the G650 ready. It had the range and the speed to get them to where they needed to be. He and Jo had brain-stormed a way to slip under the radar so to speak, by ferrying Branson's Citation X - with which he had first arrived - back to Atlanta to put the AMRB off the scent while they flew on the G to Chile.

While Branson's finance company had bankrolled the jet, it was still in the debtor's name and the paperwork hadn't been completed yet. It still had the A6 registration that hopefully wouldn't be picked up unless someone knew what they were looking for.

Caitlin was holding it together like the strong woman she was and Nash was out of hours so he had to rest if he wanted to fly the G next day. He did get his nose out of joint when he found out he was actually filling the roll of First Officer rather than Captain for the flight but it wasn't really the time to argue. They would meet at first light and be on the wing by 0700 after customs had sorted them.

No one really had any sort of constructive sleep of course. Nash did hit the hay but only dozed on and off. There was no way he would want to be zonked in the morning trying to fight a sleeping tablet hangover. He'd take a rest on the G once they were airborne and were on auto pilot.

The Captain could cover him and with two other pilots on board albeit with limited recent fixed wing hours, he knew he'd be safe to drift off on the nine hour flight if need be. That thought had him thinking that being First Officer wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Branson sent cars to pick them up and they arrived at the LAX private jet terminals just as the sun gave a red glow to the horizon.

Baggage and paperwork had been checked by customs, the former loaded onto the plane as soon as possible, no one knew how long they'd be away and Jo had briefed the staff at Santini Air to continue as normal. All work had been allocated for the next week and they had the business running well enough not to need the girls there every minute. They were only a radio call away in any case and their Receptionist was well able to run the office systems while they were abroad. The Chief engineer had a solid week already booked and aside from any regular maintenance of the fleet, the two 169's would have their new rotors retrofitted by the end of the week, ready for test flights and signing off when the group assumed to be back.

By 0630 the service door in the terminal beeped and clicked open revealing an attractive brunette in a flight uniform with four bars on her epaulettes. With her hair drawn off her face and gathered in a high bouncy pony tail, the whole crew took a double take. Nash couldn't help himself and he was after all a red blooded male. He scanned her from head to foot whistling internally in appreciation, while at the same time an involuntary pang of envy stabbed at his ego and his inner caveman surfaced.

Branson shook his head to himself the moment the younger man spotted the beautiful girl, he had a feeling it was to be expected. Clearing his throat, he grinned as he watched Nash snap out of his daze.

"Dale, sweetheart, good to see you again," he strode to the beaming pilot who'd prempted his moves and walked into his open arms, "Hey Uncle Bran" she said adoringly as they hugged warmly and kissed cheeks.

Nash's internal dialogue screeched like a needle drawn across a record and he sobered. _Uncle Bran? _"I'm so screwed." He said, rubbing his face as he mumbled to himself.

"What was that honey?" Jo asked her son as the group made a move to stand.

Nash was still slightly miffed, "Nothing," he dismissed watching the easy interaction with the beautiful woman and the billionaire.

Jo then glanced at Caitlin, an understanding look exchanging between them. It was always impressive when other women were at the helm of any industry, it shouldn't be but it was. It gave them both such pride being part of the sisterhood of pilots and more so, Captain of a multicrew aircraft for what was for the most part still largely, a male dominated industry. A fact that they simply lived with and it was what it was.

Branson introduced his niece, Dale Westbury to the others, she was his sister's daughter and was also like a daughter to him. He had no children of his own. His wife and childhood sweetheart having finally succumbed to a life-long battle with cancer ten years ago. Following the initial aggressive treatment, it left her unable to have children and with the numerous bouts and remissions throughout her life, it just never happened for them. After her passing, he threw himself into his empire and he'd never found anyone to settle down with. He was often depicted as a rich playboy which was so very far from the truth. He simply went to a lot of events the he took dates to. They were often other single people in his circle and while he loved the company of women, none had until very recently caught his eye.

"… and this is Jo Santini," he finished, his hand resting in the small of Jo's back and his gaze lingering a second longer then was appropriate.

Dale's eagle eye didn't miss a thing, she smiled to herself and shook Jo's hand, "so lovely to meet you Jo," she said in a similar accent to her uncle. Turning to the others, her gaze fell back on Nash, who's eyes were already boring into her.

She lifted a sculpted brow at him in a challenging expression. She'd heard about Nash, he'd certainly made a name for himself within her uncle's aviation connections. He was a real gun pilot and she would have to be cautious that she didn't stroke his ego for which he was rumoured to flaunt.

She wasn't one to assume though because ego could always be mistaken for confidence. She also knew that men that looked as he did, coupled with the talent he had, likely had both ego and confidence in spades.

That thought caused her to chuckle in that he had to play First Officer today.

Just as well then, that she too didn't lack any confidence.

"Shall we?" Dale asked, addressing the others.

She hooked her hand on her rolling case in a fluid movement as she strode past it, prompting Nash to walk with her, "I've given her a prefight and all we need to do is brief our passengers and we're good to go," she said in her official Captains voice.

The group walked across the always windy tarmac to where the sleek jet stood all shiny and new with the APU blowing away on the other side of the aircraft.

The interior was fully lit and made it look like a sale's add as they all approached her in the still low light of the early morning. The bird was full of fuel and could fly for almost fifteen hours straight which was more than enough time to fly non-stop to Antofagasta in Chile.

After boarding via the automatic air stairs, Dale asked Nash to retract them, lock and crosscheck all exits while her passengers stowed their carry-on bags and were briefed on the emergency procedures.

Once everyone was comfortable, Dale and Nash made their way to the other side of the bulkhead at the pointy end of the beautiful plane and sat themselves in front of the four large screens of the G's glass cockpit.

Securing their harnesses and sliding their headsets on, Dale stated, "I run a sterile cockpit, but once the autopilot is on, we can relax ok?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Nash responded with a lopsided grin. This was the difference between his seat of the pants type of flying and commercial flying. While he greatly appreciated the regimented procedure when flying for the public, there was often no time to follow it when you're trying to reclaim a plane and the debtors are coming at you in a car, with guns blazing and all he wanted to do was get out of dodge as quickly as possible.

They ran through their pre-start check list.

Dale reset the screen and brought up the next one. "Ok, let's start number two," Dale said, reaching over the glare shield to indicate two to the marshaller with two fingers of her hand. After she initiated start sequence for the right engine, she repeated the procedure on engine number one and after the rest of the checklists were completed, Nash radioed the tower to clear them to taxi to runway 07L.

With a wave of his wands, the marshaller released them from their parking place and they were on their way.

Nash and Dale worked smoothly together and once the Autopilot was switched on, Nash was in two minds as to whether to use the hours to rest or get to know Dale a little better.

With WIFI available on board, Branson took the time to catch up with a few business deals, Jo checked in at Santini and Caitlin worried about her boy. Being the longest serving member with the original Airwolf team apart from Archangel, she wracked her brain to try to remember anything that had happened back then that could give them a clue to the answers they were looking for today.

Everything was so fuzzy, for decades she had tried to separate herself from that time in her life. To dredge through the haze now was serving only to frustrate her further. The Russian connection was elusive, because by the time she'd joined the team, those missions had already been concluded and their only interest in Airwolf was that they wanted the machine for themselves which was nothing new. She almost wished she could talk to Archangel, but that wasn't an option because the man couldn't be trusted.

Nash's social agenda was cut short by sleep, cruising at 41 thousand feet at Mach.87, the G had a cabin pressure closer to a comfortable four thousand feet. He tried to keep up with conversation but was losing the battle, he started yawning and then his eyes grew heavy. Before long he had nodded off. Dale had known that Nash had pulled a long chopper flight with only minimal rest and likely even less sleep, so she let him be as they continued to streak through the air towards South America.

Halfway through the flight, Branson contacted Craig, the pilot who'd be ferrying his other jet back to Atlanta. Everything was on schedule and earlier, he had his people diverted the G650's satellite coms through to the Citation X in case anyone was tracking his phone.

He might not understand completely how some things were done, he was more of a dreamer of all things fantastical and in his mind, he was the one that just asked if it could be done. That's why he employed the best specialists in the business, all to help him make those dreams come to fruition.

With his phone married to the satellite dock, it was timely then, that Archangel called at what would have been half an hour after the Citation had left the ground, "Michael, what a coincidence, I was wondering when I'd hear from you," Branson answered with his usual demeanour, "have you got anything?"

"Unfortunately, nothing of any great significance. You?" Micheal asked.

Branson scoffed. "Now why would you think I have anything? You're the one with all the intelligence, and you're the one who's created this mess Michael. Even if I did _have something_, you already know I like to keep my cards close to my chest."

There was a long pregnant silence with only the well muffled jet noises in the background. "Yeah, I kind of get that vibe, I'm sorry you feel that way. I'd like to help Richards, I really would, but I can't do that if you don't trust me." There was another silence, and then Archangel sighed, "Look, I know that you've left California."

"Of course you do," Branson retorted confirming his suspicions, "I'm heading back to Atlanta, there's nothing more I can do in Van Nuys."

"And I wouldn't be surprised the others are with you."." Archangel said, revealing some more information.

Branson had hoped that AMRB wouldn't have that little piece of intel, but wasn't too surprised that they did. He just hoped that the diversion they'd put in place was enough to buy them the time they needed. "You could be right." He put the phone back into the dock on the teak credenza that ran along one side of aircraft and picked out the wireless headsets from the draw underneath.

He handed one each to Jo and Caitlin, he switched on the conference setting before placing one on himself.

"That's all I get?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, if you're heading to Atlanta to search for clues, you might like to know that someone's already done that for you. Le's apartment was found trashed last night."

"Dammit Michael! Nothing of significance?" Branson's voice clearly showing his frustration.

Caitlin stiffened in her seat and looked like she was going to explode but Jo placed a hand on her arm to calm her, followed by Branson acknowledging his thanks.

"Is it really any surprise considering? Anyway, we found nothing _significant_," Archangel said, handing Branson another tiny morsel.

"And? Would you have informed us if there had have been?" Branson asked, already assuming the answer.

"Well Richards, that would depend on what we found." Michael said fully aware he was agitating the businessman with the way he was delivering the information, but he equally annoyed that Branson and his friends were apparently running their own show. "Anyway, the place was picked clean of anything we could use. The Russians had likely already been through it before they grabbed him."

"And here I was thinking that you were wondering why we don't trust you." Branson said, hitting hard.

"It's a two way street, Richards." Michael said, following in quick succession.

"Perhaps it is but you came to me Michael, before this I was just minding my business." Branson said truthfully.

"Yes, and therein lies the problem." Michael argued.

"I beg your pardon?" Branson asked in surprise. "I fail to see what that has do with the price of tea in China."

"With you and Evan sniffing about - pardon the pun - and all your aerospace projects, don't you think that Governments are going to take a keen interest in your work?"

Branson Richards and Evan Scent had thrown almost as much money into their collective projects as the US Government and their sponsored aerospace companies had. With their own and not national interests fuelling the research, of course congress would want to capitalise on it as much as they could and stay ahead in defence. Michael having admitted that he'd been called back from retirement when both Russia and the States were starting a new type of space race was proof enough.

"You're aware that we both approached congress before we went our own way?" Branson pointed out.

"With all due respect, taking tourists for joy flights and living on other planets is not our immediate concern so, unfortunately both proposals were unsuitable at the time." Archangel deplored.

"In other words, too expensive, which is why you guys are three years behind the Russians I imagine," Branson said, throwing the fact in his face.

"Ouch," Michael said, truly affronted by the harsh words.

"Gentlemen, don't let a pissing contest get in the way of what this conversation is really about." Jo interceded.

"Jo..," Branson said, in a warning tone.

"Ah Ms Santini, good to finally speak with you," Archangel said at the same time.

"Michael, just stop with the BS, we've all had enough of the surreptitious interrogation. You'll never get our trust, we'll never share anything with you, even if we had something. You knew that there was a hit out on Uncle Dom, yet you did nothing to stop it. Playing these games with us is just cruel. We've tried hard to leave it in the past, but here you are again, disrupting the lives of people who don't want anything to do with the FIRM, The Company, the AMRB or what-ever other name you people like to call yourselves, but we end up not having a choice. At least have the decency to ask your questions straight out, we're done with the constant circling." Jo spilled everything she'd been holding in since being drawn into the whole Airwolf saga again.

There was a long silence before Archangel stated, "I'm not the enemy here, Jo."

"Well, you're certainly no friend," she bit back in contrast.

"I sure as heck am the closest thing to a friend you'll have at the Bureau," Michael retorted with genuine offence, "I didn't order the hit on your family. I don't even know who did, nor do I know if The FIRM knew anything because I'd already been shipped off to the Middle East before The FIRM ceased and that was literally the week before it all went to shit. I didn't even hear about it until I came back out of deep cover ten years later. I tell you they sure could've used Airwolf in that hell hole!" he said passionately. "I guess The Company didn't count on Stringfellow getting sick or Saint John running off with The Lady like he did."

Jo and Caitlin's eyes became glassy as they thought back to the moment that Dom was killed. "We looked for them you know," Jo said with a sniff. Branson found a tissue box and handed it to her.

"So I'm told, The Company followed your progress." Michael admitted.

Jo snorted, rolling her eyes in contempt. "Of course they did."

"That's why they left you alone, they knew that you'd done all you could. They also spent years putting resources into trying to find them too, but it was as if they literally just disappeared into thin air."

"Yeah" Jo huffed reminiscing of the past, but sobering when she thought of Le being taken and where this trip they were on would take them. "Shame they couldn't leave us alone now." She said in a biting tone.

"Jo, you know that's not an option right now," Archangel said, levelling with her.

"Right," she sniffed once more, wiping her eyes one last time and sitting up. Now back in the moment, she had to acknowledge that Archangel likely didn't have anything to do with Dom's death. "But I still don't trust you," she cautioned.

"Fair enough," Archangel conceded.

"I just want my boy back," Caitlin chimed in tearily, reaching to take another tissue from the box.

"Hey Cait," Michael said softly, "we're working on it, we're working on it." He paused for a moment, "you folks know it would be of great benefit if we could work together on this, don't you?"

"If you find Le, we'll talk about it," Caitlin said dismissively, slumping back into her leather seat just as the connection deteriorated.

"Michael, we're just about to lose the satellite," Branson informed, "I'm sure we'll hear from you sooner rather than later."

"Yes, and hopefully with news that we're a step closer." And the line dropped out before they could sign off.

Branson also sat back in his chair, his elbows on the arm rests and his hands clasped as he thought things through. "Jo, do you think what he said was true, about not knowing what happed with the intelligence change over?"

Jo shrugged, "Maybe, the timeline was pretty muddled with everything that was going on at that time."

"And don't forget, that Saint John, was _coincidently_ found just before the changeover too. But the biggest problem is that we were only privy to what they wanted us to know," Caitlin added, "Maybe Archangel's telling the truth, maybe he helped us out too much and The Company had other plans for Airwolf that he wasn't aware of because of his alliance with Dom and String."

"Who knows," Jo wondered out loud, "in the end no one got what they wanted and it's been a moot point ever since."

"Until now," Branson affirmed.

Nash woke up in need of a toilet break, remembering where he was, he looked to his left and thought to himself that he wouldn't mind waking up to that face every morning.

"Hey sleeping beauty," Dale grinned at him, "You've been zonked out for the last three hours. You have a little drool just …" she reached over and Nash scooted upright in mortification pulling at his shirt with one hand, looking for a wet patch and wiping at his mouth reflexively with the other. There was none and he glared at the beautiful woman with narrowed eyes, who was now laughing at his expense.

"If you'll excuse me," he said unbuckling his harness, "I just need to get rid of my morning wood," causing Dale to glace at his crotch before she could think.

"Shit," she mumbled at his stunt, her cheeks tinging red.

"Hey! Eye's up here Ms Westbury," he teased, pointing two fingers back at his own, then winking at her when her gaze met his.

"Shut up and get me a coffee." Dale said in jest, "white and half a sugar."

"Aye, aye Captain," Nash saluted, enjoying the banter and headed to the back of the aircraft to use the bathroom.

The galley was just behind the cockpit it and had a great coffee maker included. Nash asked the others if they wanted something and after taking the orders, he swiftly churned out the hot drinks in close succession. Catering had packed some delicious grazing platters for everyone too, which he pulled out and distributed between the passengers.

He took a few minutes to be briefed on the latest news from Archangel and then headed back to the cockpit. Dale thanked him for his efforts and the refreshments would tie them over for the rest of the flight.

Once they got to Antofagasta, they would hire a chopper and from there and it was only about an hour's flight east to the coordinates.

Later on the ground, they were finally cleared by customs. Nash turned his head to the East, "He sure knows how to pick a good place to hide," he said looking over the endless desert landscape that stretched inland to towards the Andes.

He and Branson spent some time to find a suitable charter business who agreed to hire a chopper to them sans pilot. It was amazing what could be bought if the price was right.

Jo would never hand one of her machines over to anyone like that. She'd tell them to go buy their own.

They also bought some side arms on the black market because it was easier to do that, then it was to try to bring their own over. Branson was again reminded why he employed the best specialists in their field. Nash's daredevil nature and the worldly experience he'd gained through the military and the often dangerous repossession business, made it easy for him to nut out the details to get things. He had a way with the locals and innately knew what areas to target and who to ask to get what he wanted.

Branson was a little nervous to carry because it just wasn't a thing that he did, but he was a good shot and they all needed as much protection as they could get if things headed south. They were after all, potentially stuck between two superpower governments looking for the same things they were. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Dale would stay back at the hotel and make sure she was on the plane again when the rest of the crew were due back the next afternoon to be briefed. For tonight they would all take a break and leave first light in the morning.

Bleary eyed in the early hours of the following day, the group of four fronted up to a hangar. Two Airbus H135's, one presumably the one they'd hired, sat out on the apron while the other was still sitting cosy inside.

Jo was elected to play the pilot of the moment, so she was the one who had her paperwork checked and needed to take a test flight to be handed the keys.

"No Problem, no problem," the charter company owner assured while they were waiting for the fuel truck to top up for the trip. It was normal practice for the re-fueler to leave the fuel caps to the pilot or in this case the owner to secure them. "Mierda," he said in frustration, as the cap didn't want to play ball.

He tried a few times, but the locking handle wouldn't sit flush. He turned to the group. "A moment, I get the mechanic to change it," he said in a thick Spanish accent, before stomping back into the hanger.

"Diego, tienes otro tapón de combustible para ese helicóptero?" he yelled through the building.

A younger man appeared only minutes later with a replacement cap in a sealed and labelled bag, "So where are you guys off to today?" he asked, his brogue barely detectable by comparison to his boss. He unwrapped the fuel cap and replaced it, checking the locking handle a few times to make sure it worked perfectly.

Caitlin told him what they'd told the owner of the chopper, "We're looking for rocks," she said, adding that they were studying the lava flows from some of the volcanos to the North East.

"I see," he said, studying the four carefully, "you don't look like geologists."

Caitlin huffed as the others looked on nervously with the line of questioning, "What's a Geologist supposed to look like?" She asked with a smile.

The mechanic shrugged, shaking his head and looked over at the G across the tarmac, "Hm," he wondered out loud, "I think I'm in the wrong business" he mumbled, retrieving the chopper's log book from its door pocket and making an entry before signing off on it.

"All ready to fly. Have a nice day." He said with a grin and left the group to watch his retreating form with a hint of worry. They piled into the helicopter and prepared it to leave.

Heading north east, Jo expertly flew the 135 towards the tiny village of Chui Chui. The landscape was brutal and desolate, nothing but tons of light pink barren sand and rock.

Branson watched her from his vantage between the gap in the bulkhead from the opposite rear seat. He felt a light knock to his foot, causing him to look at the culprit.

Selecting the passenger intercom, Nash asked. "see something you like?"

Slightly embarrassed at being caught staring, Branson smiled "Jo is a remarkable woman."

"She sure is," Nash agreed. "Is this the bit where I take you aside and warn you about hurting her?" he asked.

Branson grinned wide at Nash's comment, "you could I guess. But I'd then have to sit you down while cleaning my guns and ask what your intentions are with my niece."

Nash laughed out a huff. "We'll talk about this later, son," he said in a dad voice causing both of them to laugh loudly enough that Caitlin looked over her shoulder at them. They contained themselves the moment she gave them a questioning look, but she let it go and looked forward again a moment later.

They found their way along the Salado River, following it towards the base of the Andes Mountain Range. Their peaks rose high from the landscape and were topped with a white dusting of snow. Deep narrow gorges and rock formation's in the limestone rock, bore striking similarities to the country where Airwolf had previously been hidden. From the information gathered, the area had only one road nearby that was gazetted with a danger warning and had only been sealed in the last couple of years.

The river had carved immense gorges into the landscape over previous millions of years. The area was currently the driest in the world, all the water in the rivers now only coming from the mountain springs to the east that ran along their tributaries. They often ran dry along the way in the summer, leaving dry riverbeds and waterholes.

Crossing over the river to continue North East, they flew towards Volcano country. The perfect place to hide stuff.

They were high now, nearing ten thousand feet above sea level. Only a few miles from their target, the excitement started to build within the cabin as Jo slowed the chopper down and they all kept their eyes peeled for any sort of landmark that could hide a The Lady.

"Look!" Caitlin pointed through the windshield from the co-pilot's seat.

They came upon a shallow and wide lava channel, worn over time from its original craggy steep sided form. They followed it to the southern said of an extinct volcano. At the bottom, a wide mouthed cave disappeared into blackness beyond.

"Well, that looks promising," Branson announced as they hovered some distance away.

"I'm putting her down," Jo nudged the chopper towards a relatively level area on the outer side of the levee to the ancient channel.

Minutes later, the helicopter was winding down and they prepared themselves for what could be the most significant reunion in thirty years.

Checking their weapons - just in case - they left the helicopter with great caution. Nash in particular, using his training to assess the safety of the others as they proceeded. Climbing over the embankment to hike towards the opening that would have been at least fifty feet high and twice as wide, they noticed the floor of the opening had been expertly paved in limestone to an almost flat surface. It extended into the cave and made a perfect hardstand.

"Follow the yellow brick road, Dorothy," Branson urged, instinctively placing his hand in the small of Jo's back.

Glancing at each other and full of optimism, the group advanced into the darkness as the opening narrowed. Their eyes adjusted to the light and not more than thirty feet in they all halted in their tracks.

Jo tucked herself next to Branson's side, who grasped her waist, squeezing her in his excitement.

Caitlin gasped, the sound echoing off the walls, just as Nash let out a low whistle before whispering, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore."


	6. 5 Family Comes First

**5**

**Family Comes First**

Cloaked in a dust sheet, even in the dim light, the familiar shape of the sleek airframe was unmistakable and just as Caitlin and Jo remembered from so long ago. The four pondered a long moment to take in the realisation that they'd found Airwolf and then examined the rest of their surroundings.

The area had been outfitted similarly to the Lair minus the diagnostic computer. There were parts and supplies, toolboxes and fresh fuel in drums lining the walls. There was a small tractor built from an old ride on lawnmower, with a steering arm attached to The Lady's nose wheel, making it easier to pull her out to the paved apron so she could take off.

Jo finally cut through the stunned silence and said something. "Looks as though she's been well look….."

The dark space was suddenly bathed in light and the group whirled around just as someone drawled "Drop your weapons!"

With a rifle aimed at the trespassers, there stood Saint John. Older yes but non-the-less, he was a picture of health. Dressed in jeans, a fleece coat, plaid shirt, with a Stetson on his head and sturdy boots on his feet, he looked every bit the man on the land as he studied the intruders with narrowed eyes. When he finally recognised the two women that he'd shared a profound history with, he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things

"Cait?" he asked before shifting his gaze to the other women tucked under the arm of a familiar face that he couldn't quite put his finger on, "Jo? How did you find me?"

"Saint John," Caitlin took a step forward.

"Don't come any closer Cait, I said drop your weapons and I meant it," he warned benignly, re-aiming his firearm. Caitlin complied first, disarming the gun and placing it on the ground showing her hands in surrender.

Jo followed her lead and nodded to the boys, "It's ok guys." She urged Nash and Branson to do the same, which the later did, before Nash finally conceded.

"Saint John it's only us, no-one else knows we're here," Caitlin attempted to placate him.

"There better not be, you ladies got some explaining to do, starting with who are those two?" he eyed the two men suspiciously waving the gun between them.

Stepping away from Branson and with her hands on her hips, Jo spoke up."Well firstly, how about you stop pointing that thing at us," she scolded, "especially since one of us is my son Nash."

Saint John eyed his old friend and then the young man, dropping the muzzle to point to the floor, thereby causing the others to feel more at ease. "Your son huh?" he asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully "Well waddayaknow?" he huffed, managing a small smile, "That the husband?" he nodded to Branson and sizing the man up.

Branson looked down at Jo fondly and couldn't contain his cheeky grin. Jo returned a smile, blushing slightly and breathed out a "No," catching herself, she straightened up and added, "No, this is our new friend Branson Richards."

"Is that so?" Saint John asked putting the name to the face, but still not quite placing him, "friend huh?" he narrowed his eyes again at the man who had been holding onto Jo more intimately than a _friend_ would normally. He turned back towards Caitlin, "Cait, you're looking well," he complimented thinking to himself that she was still as charming as he remembered from the too-short-a-time he'd gotten to know her all those years ago. "You didn't answer my question yet. How did you find me?" he asked curiously and a little more relaxed now.

"Never mind that for the moment, It's Le," Caitlin started cutting to the chase.

"Le? Is he OK?" Saint John asked in concern.

"He was." Caitlin said almost accusingly, her eyes glazing over. Jo placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Cait, I know you took him in." Saint John admitted.

"You kept tabs on us?" the realisation spiked her range as she took a step towards him. "You knew!?" her voice rose and octave.

"I did," Saint John nodded once, bracing himself. He did not expect this turn of events when he woke up this morning. Saint John had lived a quiet life, living on a farm on the outskirts of the tiny town down the mountain and in a shack that he converted within an old barn over the years. It was a simple life, keeping The Lady out of the clutches of anyone who'd use her for evil and all the other corny lines that could be used to put the point across.

But for right now this wasn't about The Lady, a man could get pretty one eyed when he lived and almost solitary existence and now it was time to face the music.

"I knew he was safe, I knew he'd be alright with you, he was such a smart kid, it was better that he was with you…here is no life for a boy with a mind like that," he spoke quietly and calmly.

"What? You asshole, he was your child!" she yelled at him, her temper getting the best of her, her mama bear was unleashed as she pointing through the air at him, "After everything he'd been through, you chose that stinking helicopter over him!" she jabbed the same finger at the machine's covered form as she took another step closer. "All he ever wanted was to know you!"

She was only two feet away from him now, "He wanted his dad!" she poked that finger at his chest and he let her, "and even though he's a grown man, you know what he did when he found out where you might have gone?" poke, "the first thing he did was want to find you," poke, "he doesn't fly, so he got in his truck and left to look for you" poke, "and now he's gone!" she started to sob, the sorrow spilling over.

"They grabbed him while he was on his way to find you!" Saint John steadied her wracking shoulders. "He's gone and here we are, we've got to get my son back Hawke! Your son back!" the words became muffled as she collapsed into him, his heart falling with hers and giving him no choice but to hold her together, soaking in the gravity of the situation and also in her tears.

"We'll find him, Cait, whatever it takes, I promise you, we'll find him." he said thickly as he tried to sooth her. He didn't know how he'd do that just yet. In that one moment his life had changed and he vowed to himself that he'd try his heart out. Rubbing her back while she wept, he awkwardly glanced at the others who were all in varied states of unease.

Later and once Caitlin had calmed enough, Saint John let her go, quietly murmuring and making sure she was ok.

She nodded, and wiping her eyes, she huffed out a laugh, "despite everything, it's good to finally see you again Saint John."

Saint John was surprised at that and oh so relieved. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's been too long, and with every day blurring into the next around here?" he shrugged, looking around the cave. "Time just seems to get away from you and before you know it, thirty somethin' years go by."

He caught sight of the other's again, almost forgetting that they were there. His eyes fell on Jo first, "Jo," he stepped over to her hesitantly. She smiled warmly and opened her arms for another embrace, before letting go so he could shake hands with the two men before stepping back from the group.

He cocked his head and looked at the them curiously, "So? How did ya'll know where to find me?" he asked again. Moving his arm out to usher the group into an area that had a chair and a few old oil drums to sit on.

He wasn't as socially apt as he should have been, living in a place like this for that long and in hiding, did that to a person. "You'll have to forgive me, but I wasn't exactly expecting visitors," he mumbled, trying to lighten the mood while covering the drums with clean rags.

The group brought the seventy three year old up to speed and Saint John listened with great interest as the story unfolded. Saint John visibly slumped as he learned of Le's abduction by the Russians. "Ahhh Shit," he hissed under his breath.

"Russia poked the bear." Nash said with a shrug.

"It's like the space race all over again, only with weapons this time," Branson said, remembering back to the time Neil Armstrong made those first steps on the moon.

"Our side is way behind and wants to play catch up. Their interest in this chopper is surprising, but my mom and Cait assure me that it's probably quite reasonable and since Le's been taken because of that bird, I guess she must be right," Nash said looking over to where The Lady stood.

A wry grin formed on Saint Johns face, "This reminds me of Mount Hope Three back in '88," Saint John mused.

"Mount Hope?" Branson asked.

"You know about that?" Nash asked at the same time, his memory being jogged and remembering the tale told to him while serving. It was one of many stories he'd heard and this only sticking in his mind because it all went down in the same month and year he was born.

Nash and Saint John informed the others about the covert retrieval of an Mi-25 Hind gunship that had been left abandoned at the Northern Chadian Airforce Base, Ouadi Daum. It was after Col. Gaddafi's Libyan forces had been pushed out by the Rebels, who were backed by the US and French in March of 1987.

It was no Airwolf, but since she was AWOL and with NATO only having the Apache available, collecting the beast was the only thing the CIA could think to do to keep up with Russian Technology. The bird was finally shipped back to the States thanks to The Nightstalkers Division and was still stored in a hanger somewhere in the US to this day.

When asked how he found out about it, Saint John shrugged and said, "I literally took America's countermeasure, it pays to know what's happening with those trying to find you. The Firm and The Company were both branches of the CIA, so when you keep your ear to the ground, you hear things and put two and two together. Researching and improving on the Hind was the next best thing to finally putting Airwolf into production."

"My, but how history repeats itself," Branson said in a matter of fact tone.

"Yeah." Saint John said vaguely, thinking how true that statement was while staring at the sheet-cloaked form of The Lady. Coming back to the present, he shook his head slightly to clear the haze and reminded himself of more pressing matters. "You said that Archangel's involved?" Saint John asked in concern.

"Yes. Michael approached me first." Branson said, continuing the conversation. "He's not been privy to our findings and doesn't know we're here, but that doesn't mean he hasn't got his eye on the lookout for us."

Saint John nodded in understanding, further confirming where his unannounced guests stood, "But why did he come to you?"

"Initially, I had no idea. Michael asked about Le, you see he's my employee and then about this attack helicopter. Long story short, they wanted their helicopter back. The connection to it, is you through Le, So we're guessing Russian Intelligence got wind of it and now, here we are." Branson explained.

"So what does the out'a space thing have to do with it?" Saint John asked.

"That's a good question," Branson wondered the same thing, "apart from me funding my own private aerospace companies…. "

Saint John narrowed his eyes at the other man, sucking air through his teeth, he finally placed Branson, "Now I know who you are!" he said, loosely pointing at him in his epiphany, "you're that guy, the rich one who's dabbling with commercial flights into space right?"

"Among other things. Yes." Branson confirmed and then got back to the subject with a quick breath "I find it rather intriguing that Michael - or more accurately the Airborne Military Reconnaissance Bureau of whom he's now an operative - is still trying to acquire a machine they built and own but haven't had possession of it since it's designer stole it in the first place. The thing has been an embarrassing blight on the U.S Government from its inception, but they just can't let it go.

"It happens to the best of us," Saint John sighed mirthlessly looking over to The Lady again.

"Well, whatever it is that The Lady is hiding, it's important enough that now two world superpowers are wanting a piece of it," he said, holding two fingers up to emphasise the number. "And because of that, I can only assume that Michael knows more than he's sharing and truthfully? I can understand why, because we haven't told him anything that he doesn't already know."

"Hang on what did you just say?" Caitlin asked having lost her train of thought as images flashed through her mind.

"Which bit? About Michael?" Branson asked.

"No, before that."

"About what Airwolf is hiding?"

"Yeah that's it, Something just came to mind as you said it. Now, I don't know what she's hiding, but I have a pretty good idea where."

"What do you mean?"

"Well obviously if they want to replicate Airwolf, there's no pretty way to do it, you'd need to pull her apart bit by bit to figure her out. But there was a time when we learned that she held her own secrets,"

"Oh?" Jo sat forward with great interest.

"She carries her own blueprints," Caitlin added, making eye contact with each in turn.

"Well that would sure make it easier" Saint John agreed.

"That it would," Branson tapped at his mouth in thought, this could be a real game changer alongside the projects he already had going, especially with what Le had been working on. But this wasn't the time, nor the place to be talking development, they had to find Le first.

So he sat quietly.

"Anyway, without going into too much detail, the files were downloaded and stolen by Russian operatives, Dom and String went after them in Airwolf, killing them and saving the day. But the point is that Archangel knows about it because he was there and I'd assume there would have to be more Russian agents higher up the chain that would also know, right?

"Makes sense," Nash nodded.

"Why didn't I know this?" Jo asked.

"It was before your time Jo and it was only just after I started with Santini Air. I wasn't actually there, but it did come up in conversation later. There's only one person that really knew Airwolf and that was Moffett. So, who knows what other secrets she holds.

"We were so limited back then, with her being kept out of reach of The FIRM and its technical support like she was. All we had was that big old computer which was left after the logic bomb fiasco. They were pretty reluctant to aid and abet her helinappers any more than they really had to. Then when they did, these sorts of things, like Le going missing, seemed to happen and they made String all the more reluctant to accept any sort of assistance."

"Yeah," Jo thought back to String's strong resolve, "So how are we going to handle this?" Jo asked and everyone turned to Saint John.

"I don't know yet, but we're going to do what it takes and I figure it'll take Airwolf to do it," he said, confirming what they were all thinking.

"I'd do anything to get my boy back, but I know just handing Airwolf over isn't going to guarantee it, the past gives us a pretty good predicter of the future." Caitlin said knowing that criminals couldn't ever be trusted to hold up their end of any bargain.

Saint John huruffed, agreeing whole heartedly. He was still dirty at Archangel and The FIRM for what had gone down all those years ago, but also realised, that rotting out in this godforsaken place wasn't where he wanted it all to end. It was time. Time to make things right, put some purpose back into his life and to finally get to know his son, whom he'd never even met. "I think it's high time to fly The Lady home and see what happens when they find out that she's back," he conspired.

"Is the bird even airworthy?" Nash asked.

Saint John snorted, "Maybe not according to the FAA, but then, I have a feeling that no one ever worried about that little detail when it came to her anyway," he shrugged, "and you know how it is son, if you don't move it, you'll lose it and it's the same for machines, nothing good ever comes out of keeping them in the coop and not letting them stretch their wings. She gets a work out every so often and is as battle ready as the day I took her." He grinned proudly.

Jo watched the dynamic relax among the group. Even Caitlin, who'd now blown off all that stress, seemed to have rebooted and was thinking practically again. Jo had to hand it to her friend, if it had been her and Nash in the same situation, she didn't know if she'd have been able to cope quite as well.

"C'mon Hawke," Jo tried out the nickname that both brothers had used, "I'm sure we'd all like to see her," she prompted nodding to the object of the moment.

"About time!" Nash chimed in, jumping up quickly.

"What he said," Branson's face glowed as he rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"I'm sorry I called her a stinking helicopter," Caitlin apologised, and even with her justifiably pent up and emotive outburst earlier, she cracked a smile. She, for now at least, still had a love hate relationship with The Lady, which were similar to her feelings for Saint John.

"I'm sure she'll get over it," Saint John reached over and squeezed her knee. He had loved her smile since the day he first laid eyes on her. It was yet another thing he gave up all those years ago, even before it had a chance to get started.

They all got up and walked to the mid-sized chopper. Pulling the dust covers off, the soft fabric rustled to the stone floor beneath and the streamlined machine was revealed her in all her glory.

"Woah," Nash uttered in quite awe as his eyes raked over the beautiful helicopter. Taking in the still current, clean lines of today's executive choppers but with the aggressive styling that gave away its pedigree more akin to a jet fighter. "Definitely not a paper bag job."

The group chuckled and the two women smiled as the memories came flooding back to them both. The Lady, casting her spell as she always did when one was lucky enough to see her in the flesh.

"Now that is very sexy," Branson stood, impressed, with his eyes as wide and eager as a child's on Christmas day.

"Says the man who owns the brand," Jo nudged him fondly.

Saint John walked around to the co-pilot's side and opened door with a hiss and unremarkably, the interior lit up. The cockpit was, to those familiar with her, as they remembered. It was fairly standard layout, but the instruments though functional, were dated. Where it differed was with the many weapons and flight systems consoles that were replicated from the flight engineer's seat in the back. The group had caught up, their eyes taking in every square inch of skin.

"Climb in," Saint John urged Branson as he flipped the seat forward, "there's just enough room to scramble through, to the back, mind your head," he cautioned.

Branson took care, and once through to the rear of the chopper, there was a surprising amount of space, and two huge computer consoles that covered both outer walls of the interior. He sat in the seat and the Lady automatically came to life, her electrical APU humming and giving power to the displays as they illuminated around him.

"Cool" Nash drew out like he was ten years old again.

That caused Saint John to huff out another laugh, "Back in the day we often didn't have time to run through our systems checks, pre-start up checks or to arm every system individually. So as soon as our ass hits the seat, Airwolf does that for us in the time it takes to put your helmet on and wait for her to spool up."

"I get you man," Nash glowed, "I almost always start up cold without the systems checks in repo. Nothing like putting your faith in a machine to get you out of a sticky situation when you're being shot at, right?"

"Repo huh?" Saint John asked as he led the rest of the group to the pilots side. "You're a braver man than I," he joked, before opening the door and urging Nash with a flare of his hand. "Jump in."

Nash wasn't going to question that, "Nice," he said as his rear touched the seat, placing his left hand on the collective. He always liked the T bar type of collective control that Bell had bestowed on some of their birds, including in the current 430 he'd flown the other day, it was smooth to use and the throttles were equally in an easy and common sense position. They were more in line with how fixed wing aircraft were configured and felt natural to operate. This beauty was similarly laid out and it - just worked.

The cyclic looked more like a stick on a Cobra, with multiple triggers for firing weapons and that unique turbo button that he'd love to be able to play with some day.

Glancing back over his shoulder into the back of the aircraft now that he could get a better look, he got a shock and took a double take, "holy shit!" he announced, "eighties much! Imagine being able to condense that lot with what we've got available today?"

"She's older than you Nash, give her a break," Saint John teased.

"Shhh," Branson said from among the hundreds of switches, knobs, PC computer style keyboards and screens, "That's not the way a gentleman should speak about a Lady." And they all laughed until an awkward silence befell them.

"I guess this is it then?" Jo said, with her arms crossed, leaning back against the sponson, next to the large air intake of one of the turbojets.

"Yeah," Saint John nodded.

"When can you have her ready?" Jo asked him.

"Well I just need to wrap up a few things here, I don't want to make a repeat of my disappearing act by leaving those have been so good to me without a word." Saint John said contritely, "You met young Diego at the Airport, he's the one who gave me the word you were in town."

The penny dropped for Caitlin with the suspicious conversation the man at Antofagasta had with her.

"Geologists usually have a stack of shit they bring with them and certainly don't come flying into town on private jets," Saint John said with a raised eyebrow as he looked at the group pointedly.

"Oops" Caitlin said of the gaff, looking sheepish.

"No harm done, just lucky that Pablo likes his hush money and Diego Jr. is like a nephew to me. His father. Diego Senior and his family have been instrumental in keeping us under wraps all these years. I owe them." Saint John said of the people who'd taken him in, no questions asked all those years ago.

It was more luck than coincidence that Diego Jr. was even alive today.

Saint John had wandered into the tiny village of Chui Chui after hiding Airwolf in a crevasse not far from there. He arrived in the hope that he could get a meal and a bed for the night while he thought about his next move. Lord knew he hadn't thought it through when he'd taken The Lady in the first place. He just flew to the most remote and dry place he could think of. Where he could keep her hidden but still access her.

He was kicking pebbles in the dust as he meandered down what was no more than a dirt track, whereupon he came across the first dwelling.

Hearing an agonising scream, he ran to the little house, finding a young woman in the confronting throws of childbirth.

It became apparent that the young lady named Isadora, was in a whole world of trouble. Ever thankful that he spoke fluent Spanish, Saint John figured out that there were no vehicles on the property apart from an old tractor and that the woman's husband worked at the Airport in Calama. Saint John decided to take her to Airwolf in the tractor bucket and fly her to the nearest hospital, which was also in Calama.

It also turned out that there was an emergency at the Airport that day.

A Lan Chile Boeing 737 had an unexpected nose-wheel collapse on landing, it rolled and thereafter burst into flames.

With all that going on, the resources in the small town were stretched to capacity and no-one seemed to notice the black helicopter sneaking into the area and then heading out again after Saint John handed Isadora over to the emergency department at the hospital.

Thereafter, he flew toward the airport where he set Airwolf down as close as he dared on the far side of a small service building. All the while, the real action was happening at the other end of the runway and kept everybody's eyes averted.

Isadora's husband, Diego was the refueler at the airport and was easy enough to track down.

After Saint John gave him the news that he was a father and that Isadora was safe, Diego was so grateful that he promised to keep Saint John's helicopter a secret and was more than happy to fill her up. He also insisted that Saint John stay at his farm and as soon as he had time, he'd show the American just the place to hide her.

The short stay turned into Saint John's permanent home, he converted part of the rickety barn into a small home and helped the family out where ever he could. With the fortune that his family had, Saint John put Diego Jr through school and the boy became an Aircraft Maintenance Engineer. That all led to Diego Jr. getting his job at Antofagasta Airport and setting up a home in the coastal town.

The rest as the say, was history.

After saying their farewells for the moment, Saint John's visitors piled into the 135 and shortly thereafter, rose from the moon-like landscape. The chopper kicking the dust up as Saint John watched on and waved them off.

They would head back to Antofagasta, stay overnight and take the G back to LA the next day. Saint John planned to head off at the same time but would need to stop at a secret fuel drop in Guatemala. One of the many that he'd learned about while deep under cover and known by only a few private helicopter pilots that were serving in the Air Force Reserve during the Guatemalan Civil War. Since there weren't many choppers in the Reserve, the ones that were available, were used by the Government to deliver goods to the more remote areas that didn't have airstrips.

Saint John was one of those chopper pilot operatives that the CIA appointed to keep an undercover eye on proceedings. This came about because any offer of U.S. help had been rejected by the Guatemalan Government. They chose instead to go it alone. In '87 he got the word that String was in critical condition and thereafter, he had finally learned the truth.

He hoped the locations would still be active after all this time, since any sort of transport would likely still be limited up in the highland rain forests. He would spend some time before he left the cave for the day, to radio his contacts and see what came of it.

Once he was on the home run, he planned to intercept with the Gulfstream and shadow it back to California. Even though Airwolf was stealth in the 80's, he wasn't entirely sure she still was with all of today's advancements – he could never be too sure, with him being somewhat stuck in the past like he had for the last thirty years. He would then peel off, flying low to get back to the Lair and hopefully stay undetected.

Every time Nash thought about that visit to the cave, and all the other information that was shared about Airwolf, he shook his head. Being able to shadow, or even out fly the likes of something like the G, let alone being able to keep pace with something like a fighter jet? It just didn't compute in his head, but he'd be lying if he wasn't dying to see it happen.

Everyone was exhausted, a good night's sleep in a comfy bed was what was needed when they returned late in the afternoon. Diego Jr had been asked to stay behind to shut up shop for his boss Pablo, who had a hot date and wanted to leave early. "Make sure you look over every inch of that chopper before giving their deposit back, if there's so much as a scratch on it…," he went on in Spanish.

Diego was glad to be held back at the hanger, Pablo was a reasonable boss, but was still a penny pinching, greedy little bastard that could be hard to deal with when he'd been drinking. Diego had been saving like mad and was keen to start something for himself at Calama Airport. It had only very recently been developed, but still lacked a maintenance facility. It also satisfied him that he'd be closer to his ageing parents if he could make it happen.

His suspicions over that morning's clients had been assuaged an hour before the 135 was set to return with a radio call from his uncle Hawke. Any friend of Saint John's was a friend of his, but he was saddened to hear that the man was leaving and the reasons that Saint John gave. He was surprised that he had a son, but not surprised that he didn't know because uncle Hawke had never really said much about his past.

"I'm sure you'll see him again Diego," Caitlin soothed when they got back to the Airport, "Your uncle Hawke has learned a few lessons about leaving certain things in the past and I'm pretty sure that you're not one of them."

After helping the young man put away the chopper, they bid him goodbye and walked across the tarmac towards the G to catch up on business before leaving for the night.

Dale got all huggy as they finished crossing the apron, starting with her uncle and working through the line until she got to Nash. She may or may not have planned that because, while they'd only been away for the day, she couldn't get that guy out of her thoughts and she just had to touch him.

"So glad, you're all back safe!" she said keeping eye contact with Nash a moment too long and tearing her gaze away before it became too obvious. _He really is smoking hot_, she thought to herself as she rambled, "Uncle Bran, your phone hasn't stopped, the jet's ready to go for a first light departure.

"So? All good? How'd it go?" Dale asked, almost without taking a breath.

Branson laughed at his niece's exuberance, she was wonderful in a pressure situation, but her mind was always so busy, that sometimes she bubbled over with energy when forced to sit idle. "There's no doubt about it, I can always count on you sweetheart," he said, praising her like any proud uncle would.

They climbed the air stairs into the cabin that Dale had prepared earlier with a meal for them all. They ate while they caught up with any business before retiring to the hotel for the evening

Caitlin, Nash and Jo had left their phones in Van Nuys, only taking Branson's as far as leaving it in the jet and plugged into the diverted satellite phone dock. They couldn't take a chance that they were being tracked too casually. Any other communication to anyone that mattered could have been be done by radio in the meantime.

Of course, as Branson already suspected, Michael had called. More than once in fact and he was likely getting his knickers in a twist about not having had his calls answered. Branson wasn't up to calling him back and dealing with the man's repetitive attempts to shoehorn information from him. He decided instead, that if it was important enough, Michael would be certain to call again. He also wondered sardonically, how anyone ever managed back in the day of landlines and answering machines.

Jo had radioed Santini Air before they closed for the day, Bonny, her receptionist said there were no urgent matters. "Except that a guy named Michael called looking for you and I told him what you told me. He didn't leave a message or anything."

"Thanks Bonny, out," And Jo switched the radio back to the previous channel. Walking through to the lounge cabin of the Jet. Branson was busy chatting to someone and looked in the middle of a business deal. The moment their eyes met he smiled and then wrapped up the call.

"No news from Archangel?" Jo asked.

"No, well yes, he called as expected, but he didn't leave any messages, so it couldn't have been that important. You?"

"Same, he called base. Bonny gave him our excuse."

Branson nodded, "Good," he smiled before he looked around the cabin, "Well!" he stood up drawing attention to himself, "let's call it a day, shall we?"

In the time it took to shut the Jet down and retreat for a good night's rest none of them heard Branson's phone ring again as they walked off the tarmac and retired for the evening.

While all wired due to the day's events and after going their separate ways to hit the hay, they tried to manage varying degrees of sleep.

"Hey," Nash entered the main room some time later and headed to the kitchen, looking for a glass of water, "can't sleep?" he asked Dale who was sitting on the couch in her silk pyjamas with her knees drawn up to her chest and her hair in a messy bun.

Dale shook her head, "No," she drew her eyes away from where she was staring at nothing in particular.

"Me neither, can I get you a drink?" he asked her, excited at the prospect to interact with her a little longer

"Sure, I'll have whatever you're having," she tried staying casual but was thrilled that he happened to join her at this late hour.

Nash filled two glasses of chilled water from the large fridge, then handed her one and came to sit beside her. "So what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

She shrugged, "I'm just worried I guess."

"What about?" he asked casually.

She nudged him in the ribs, "Seriously? What's not to worry about Nash? Our situation is …. worrying is it not?"

"Wings."

"Pardon?" she blinked at him in confusion.

"My friends call me Wings," he said shuffling closer.

Dale smiled sheepishly, twisting to face him, "Wings," she said, listening to how it sounded and watched Nash as he mirrored her posture. "So friends. Is that what we are now?" she asked quietly taking a chance and looking into his blue eyes with her own.

"Well," he glanced at her mouth for a moment before lifting his gaze again, "is that," pausing, "what you want?" he asked wanting nothing more right now then to kiss her.

She looked away, biting her lip and thought for a moment before taking a quick breath, "You know, I hear that starting what I want to start, based on intense experiences never works," she answered, diffusing the intense feelings that might lead to actions that she'd later regret.

Nash huffed in amusement, "Did you just quote that line off Speed?" he sat back in disbelief, increasing the intimate gap between them.

Dale smiled, nodded and took a sip of her water, before standing up, she really had to put some space between them. "More or less. We've got to fly that bus tomorrow Wings, I'm going to bed," she started to walk away and didn't look back. "Alone."

Nash sat for a moment wondering what the hell had just happened and collapsed back into the sofa, a mixture of frustrated and hopeful at the same time. His shook his head at himself before admitting that Dale was probably right. No matter what he wanted, now wasn't really the time to be doing it, so he got up, walked to the kitchen, drained the glasses and also went to bed.

Alone.

The next morning as they prepared the plane to leave, Michael's number appeared on the screen again as Branson's phone rang. The others all stopped in their tracks and Branson signalled to Dale to lift the air stares as to quieten the background noise of the airport and indicated to the others to listen on the intercoms.

As he answered the phone, he didn't even get his usual greeting out before Michael spoke. "Where the hell have you been?" Michael was clearly in a state.

"Fine, thanks for asking, Michael. Not that I'm accountable to you, but I've been busy and haven't been able to get to the phone." Branson answered somewhat truthfully.

"Sure you have," Michael started dryly, "Same thing's happening at Santini Air, I've been trying to get hold of them and can only get an answer at the office number. The receptionist conveniently informing me that anyone I'm wanting to talk to, is busy flying on a job in a remote area and can't be reached. I thought they were with you anyway." Michael said, trying to catch Branson out.

"Well Michael, I don't know what to tell you. It's all true." Branson was always careful about the element of truth. "Besides, they can't very well tell their staff or ask them to disclose the real reason they're not at Santini Air, now can they?"

"Hm," Michael huffed, "and what is the real reason Richards?" he asked, not believing a word. He suspected the group were up to their neck in this together but he just hadn't been able to prove it yet. "Well, I've got you now and you might like to let the others know that we've received word and Russia have predictably asserted themselves by telling us that they have Le and that they want to negotiate."

"I see," Branson sat back in his chair glancing at the others, "Let me guess, they want Airwolf?"

"Of course they want Airwolf Richards, but since we don't know where Airwolf is, it's a moot point now isn't it? And even if we did, we don't make concessions, which now puts us in tricky situation."

"Oh? Why's that?" Branson tried to keep his voice even, but he was feeling just as apprehensive as anyone would when they suspect another wave of bad news. He was used to negotiating enormous business deals and keeping a calm façade, but this situation was highly emotive and put way more pressure on him then he'd ever felt before. He was literally playing with people's lives now, not just their money.

"They claim that Le has the information to Airwolf's whereabouts," Micheal said as he disclosed the vital information. "Does Le have information to Airwolf's whereabouts Branson?"

Branson wasn't sure what shocked him more, the suggestion that the Russians might know where Airwolf was or that Michael didn't refer to him by his surname. That indicated to him that Michael was done for the moment with the disguised mockery, that was usual in conversation between them.

"They're bluffing," Branson proposed with a careful bluff of his own.

"Are you sure of that?" Michael countered, "What if Le squealed as soon as they promised that they'd reunite him with Saint John and would give him protection from the US government for stealing that bird if they could get hold of it? It's not as if Le hasn't already been impulsive when it comes to Saint John is it?"

The silence was telling as was the crackle in the Satellite connection.

"Richards please, if you know where Airwolf is, now is the time to get to her before they do, because if that happens, mark my words. It will become be a matter of national security. I'll leave you with that thought." and the line went dead, it would be another ninety minutes before he could expect any calls.

Looking around the aircraft cabin, the faces showed their understanding as well as he did. From glassy eye's to red faced anger, perhaps it was time to work with the devil they knew rather then not having the choice with the one they didn't.


	7. 6 Howling At The Moon

6

Howling at the Moon

Back at village of Chui Chui, Saint John had packed all the worldly possessions that he could fit onto the trailbike he always used to get around on.

The first thing he'd done when he had gotten back from The Cave was make a point of sitting down with Isadora and Diego Sr. and tell them that it was time for him to go.

They both new that this would happen one day. The man had arrived out of the blue and never talked about where he'd come from in his magnificent machine to save their beautiful family. They never asked, he was like a god to them at the time and had continued to work his magic throughout their life as their friend and never once complained that they never had much to give in return.

He seemed content to make a home here with them. Whatever he'd been running from, it appeared to have finally caught up with him and while sad, they understood, accepting his minimal explanation and insisting that he stay for dinner.

There were tears when he hugged them the next morning at first light. Saint John said one last good bye before he tore off on the trail bike, leaving a cloud of light pink dust in his wake. He had so much to do at the Cave, that it would likely take him at least a few hours if nothing unexpected cropped up.

He had already reinstalled the long range fuel bladder in the flight engineer's space the day before and after his visitors had left for the day. Now he was giving the secondary fuel pump a few cycles to bleed the lines before reconnecting them. This tank would give him a further thousand miles range and safely to Guatemala.

Including refuelling by hand pump, he calculated that he should make it to The Lair in about 9 hours - all going well.

The long range tank was one of the few options he'd thought of adding years ago but just never got around to.

He was very aware that back in the day it was harder to detect where Airwolf flew. But these days with all the new technology, more villages, more people – with smart phones - CCTV, dash cams...there was just more of everything and it was so much harder to go around unnoticed, especially with the chopper's pimped up good looks.

Saint John also didn't have the connections he'd once had, it had been too long. Times had changed and people had moved on or passed away. He had to make sure that if this day came, that he could make like a doomsday prepper and set his plan into motion. Which to his credit, he had done by maintaining that list of contacts over the years.

He knew exactly where he had to go. What was a remote location then, wasn't quite as remote today, but the land just happened to be a part of a property used by a rich land owner who had built holiday home on the crest of the mountain, just for the views. He was almost never there and as luck would have it, he wasn't there now. Joshua who was just a kid when Saint John met him in Guatemala, was twenty years his junior, a civilian pilot and just happened to owe him a favour.

Joshua remained in the industry and now owned his own company with the rich guy being one of his clients. The helipad was still in the same place and was well maintained. Looking at his wristwatch, Saint John calculated that Joshua would almost be at the site to drop off the drums of fuel he had ordered.

The good thing about modern technology was the ability to pay people by direct debit. From the Hawke's complicated family trust system set up in the Cayman Islands decades ago, it meant everything remained safe and hard to track.

After loading his luggage, the fuel pump, a bunch of tools and making sure it was all still in the weight parameters, Saint John turned standby power on and leisurely waited for Airwolf to check her systems while he fitted his flight suit. It still fit, much to his amusement and with everything checking out ok, he set about the process of wheeling the Lady out from under the overhang of the cave. This was a precaution he always took, the last thing he wanted was to be buried alive if the mountainside collapsed on top of them with the amount of noise and vibration that Airwolf emitted. It had proven to work so far.

Saint John was just about to start the tow tractor when he thought he picked up a distinct whirring sound he hadn't heard in tens of years. Sitting still and straining to listen over the wind outside the cave, the sound came and went a few times before he spotted the source from his vantage off in the distance. Saint John's instincts kicked in as it dawned that there was no time to play it safe.

Heart racing as he disconnected the tow tractor and pushed it out of the way. He jumped into the chopper and slid the Helmet on after initiating start sequence.

Back at the airport, it took about an hour to get clearance to leave Antofagasta. Everything could be done from the Aircraft on the tarmac and Caitlin set about trying to contact Saint John by radioing on the same, lesser used frequency that they always had as standard between Santini Air and Airwolf. "Beautiful Lady, Beautiful Lady, this is Santini Air do you read?" She asked. On the forth try, she finally heard a response.

"Copy that Santini Air, this is Beautiful Lady."

"Saint John, we got word that Le may have given the Russians your coordinates." Caitlin said in a rush.

"Makes sense, I kind-of got the same brief about two minutes ago, I've got an olive on a stick buzzing overhead." Saint John said of the Hughes helicopter.

"Shoot OK, we're heading out ASAP, just waiting for clearance to leave, in the meantime we'll standby."

"Rodger, I'll get back to you when I'm clear."

"Stay safe Hawke."

"I recon I've done alright so far. Out."

Saint John always kept a clean work place but even so, all the dust and sand that settled into the cracks and crevices was blown around the cavernous space. Increasing power, the blades came up to revs and he taxied forward, anything that was too light to stay in place was flung towards the walls. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted dust and debris as it fell from above. Saint John had to get out of there before the place came down around him, he lifted off to a low hover, looking right down the barrel of the lava chute as it followed the downhill slope of the mountain towards the desert plateau.

He was of course cut off from an easy exit by the fully armed Hughes that had now closed in and trapped The Lady with not much space to manoeuvre. "I guess I'm not going to be able to just ease into this gently am I?" Saint John mumbled to himself as he selected gear up.

"Ah, ah, ah Mr Hawke, Just put the helicopter down and no one will get hurt." Came a Russian accent through the headset

"On the contrary tovarisch, if I put her down, there's a good chance this mountain will bury her," Saint John said just as a small part of the lip of the cave crumbled and smashed to the floor before the rubble blew around with Airwof's downwash. "This place is coming apart, I'm sure you wouldn't want to be responsible for being the demise of the very thing you're looking for? You need to back up and let us out."

"I will be watching you Hawke," the Russian warned.

"No doubt you will," Saint John replied.

The chopper retreated slowly in reverse, facing Saint John and not letting him out of his sight as The Lady ventured cautiously out in the open. Saint John breathed a sigh of relief as he emerged out from under the overhang. That didn't mean that Airwolf was in the clear, If the cave collapsed now, the displacement of debris and air would cause a shockwave big enough to engulf them for hundreds of feet or more from the mouth. Deploying the Chain Guns and The ADF pod, Saint John continued to creep Airwolf toward the other chopper.

"That will be enough Mr Hawke." The other pilot cautioned.

_Just a little _further, Saint John thought to himself as the ground level dropped away and he rotated The Lady at ninety degrees, at the same time, turning the ADF pod to line with the mouth of the crumbling cave.

"You were warned," were the last words Saint John heard from the other man. The dirt and rock between the two helicopters kicked up from machine gun fire coming from the other bird and ran towards The Lady in two straight lines. Saint John wasn't going to hang around and pressed the turbo button a second before the missile trigger. The result being that was just enough time spool up the turbos to action and get out of the way before the hellfire blast could knock them around or worse.

Airwolf shot away, only just missing the levee of the fissure as she crossed over it. She banked up as soon as there was enough clearance to gain altitude and get out of reach of the blast wave. Cancelling the turbo's Saint John turned and hovered for a moment to take a look at the handy work. The other chopper had been caught up and was slammed into the ground, separating into three pieces, the cabin on its side, still rocking. Smoke was billowing from the engine capsule, it having been ripped off the cabin with the force of the rotors when they hit the ground and the tail boom had been flung many feet away, lay crumpled and still.

The dust rose from the newly transformed landscape of the collapsed cave. Saint John was almost disappointed that the Russian didn't give more of a fight but pleased that he didn't have to waste too much precious time and fuel at the same time. Once he gathered his faculties, he pitched Airwolf forward and flew her through the black smoke of their first combat mission together. "Dasvidaniya," he uttered, making his way around the base of the old volcano and engaging turbo's before heading north.

He'd reach Guatemala in just under three hours if he travelled at the comfortable speed of Mach 1.4. Deciding that once he was finally able to breathe calmly again, he would contact the troops and fill them in on proceedings.

The trip to the fuel stop was uneventful. The long stretch of largely unpopulated harsh desert that gave way to open ocean, was a perfect and unobtrusive run to fly beyond the sound barrier. It wasn't until The Lady reached land again near the border of El Salvador and Guatemala that they slowed to just under that. Saint John thinking that he didn't want to alarm anyone on the ground with the possibility of a sonic boom.

Flying over hundreds of little farmlets that sat nestled in the foothills, there were rows and rows of crops planted in a mass of geometric crisscross patterns spreading for miles. The landscape eventually gave way to densely covered mountain ranges covered in rainforests. Finally, the small clearing that was the helipad came into view and as expected, the six, forty-four gallon drums had been delivered in perfect order. It took less time to cover the one hundred kilometre deviation to get to the fuel stop than it did to refuel The Lady with more than a tonne of fuel by hand. His arms would likely complain loudly later.

Once airborne again, Saint John radioed his thanks to Joseph and they wished each other good luck until next time. Then it was his crew's turn, "Santini Air, this is Beautiful Lady, you got your ears on?" he announced over the airwaves.

Caitlin had been keeping an ear on their private VHF channel and jumped when she finally herd Saint John's voice. Forcing herself to calm down she answered, "This is Santini Air, is everything running to schedule?"

"Hey Cait, everything's running AOK and I should be done chasing your tail in no time at all." He said with a hint of humour in his voice.

Caitlin smiled, shaking her head. The nostalgia of the moment bringing back those images of assumed improbability being proven wrong time and time again, "I'm sure we'll get visual on you soon."

"I'm sure you won't be able to miss me, Beautiful Lady," he paused, picturing Caitlin's face and smiling at himself before ending the call with, "out."

At the same time, a weird shiver went down Caitlin's spine as she heard the inflection in Saint Johns words. She shook her head at herself and pulled the headset free of the jack. "He'll be alongside soon," she assured Nash and Dale, I'm going out back, keep that radio dialled up on the Santini Air band and you guys can get to know each other," Caitlin smiled knowingly, "I'm sure you'll amuse yourselves, no drag racing, you won't win," Caitlin shook a finger at Nash in jest.

Nash rolled his eyes but was excited at the prospect of seeing the Airwolf phenomenon in flight for himself. "This'll be good," he celebrated, looking over at Dale, who had of course, been briefed along the way.

"Do you think seeing it flying with us will let you wrap your head around the concept?" Dale asked with a grin.

"Nope," Nash shook his head, "it just turns all theory of flight physics on its head, but I guess I'll have to." He shrugged.

Tracking back out over the ocean, the G was only about fifty miles ahead of Saint John and coming in as a strong blip on his radar. He'd intercept it in only a number of minutes and since Airwolf was stealth and she didn't carry a TCAS system, he thought he'd surprise them.

Spotting the beautiful sleek jet cutting thought the air as he approached, he started an overtaking move to the right. "Santini Air this is Beautiful Lady, do you copy?"

"Copy, where've you been Hawke, we've been waiting all day for you." Nash said, clearly teasing.

Saint John shook his head, smiling, "Now Nash, you know it's impolite to hog the overtaking lane," he said as he came up alongside and continued on, streaking past the jet.

The Lady left a turbulence wake as she passed, rocking the G and her crew.

Nash flinched in shock, only uttering a, "Woah!" as the chopper caught his eye through the cockpit windows.

Dale glanced at him and was much more accepting of Airwolf's flypast, "Whoohoo, now that's what I call an entrance," she giggled as she calmed the jet from the unexpected rough air.

Slowing back to under the speed of sound, Saint John let the G catch up and settled into formation not far from its right wingtip. "Eh, feels like I've just come off the freeway, and I'm crawling through the burbs." Saint John teased back.

Nash almost looked like dog with its nose pressed to a car window as he struggled with the figures rattling around in his head at what shouldn't exist and should be an impossibility with what he knew.

"Wings, cut that out, you're embarrassing yourself," Dale continued lightly as the window fogged up near Nash's face.

Composing himself, he grunted, "Psht, show off," he said through his headset.

"I think you're just jealous," Saint John retorted.

Hankering to take the controls, he shook his head wistfully, "I recon you might be right," Nash agreed with a sigh.

"She sure is magnificent, isn't she?" Dale affirmed.

"She sure is," Nash continued to stare in quite disbelief as the helicopter effortlessly stayed in formation.

Back in the cabin, during G's initial surprise instability, the three sitting in the club lounge area glanced at each other until the plane levelled out and flew smoothly again. Jo and Caitlin smiled at each other, knowing who'd arrived. "they're here," Jo nudged Branson, who unbuckled as soon as he could.

A moment later, Branson was leaning on the credenza as he looked through the large window at their acquisition. Believing himself a man who was able to think quickly and concisely, he at that moment was unable to consolidate his thoughts at all, so he just marvelled instead. "Wow, just wow," he said of the enigma that was The Lady. "How does she do that?" he wondered to himself. Even though he had been briefed on the turbo's, self-lifting fuselage and disengaged rotors, looking at Airwolf flying alongside in the flesh left him pondering if that was all.

"That's the question we often asked ourselves," Caitlin said of just about the whole time she had served with The Lady.

After seating himself again, he continued to ruminate on that thought while they all plugged into the intercom to continue with the banter with Saint John to pass the time. A few hours later, it was time to go their separate ways as they reached the coast of California.

The last thing that Saint John said was "I'll race ya back," as he took Airwolf off auto pilot. He peeled off to invert, quickly losing altitude and gaining speed.

Flying fast and low he streaked across the landscape and back towards the Lair.

Nash just shook his head, "of course she's got the moves too," he scoffed mostly to himself.

The Lady was home.

There she sat, menacing in the natural spotlight from the shaft of light above and to Jo, who'd just arrived with Nash to pick up Saint John, she never looked more beautiful.

"About time, a man could starve to death waiting out here," Saint John mocked as he rested on one of the chairs in the computer area with his feet up on another. He had used the downtime to clean out the chopper, pull the tank out and put her to bed. He'd made notes of all the supplies they'd need to keep her running, the first priority being fluids because everything in the Lair was well out of date. Other than that, everything was pretty much as he left it - plus a layer of dust he removed while he was at it. There were still some parts and ammo on the shelves and a good set of tools in their boxes, to which he had added from the supplies he'd taken with him.

"Just as well we brought something for you then, isn't it," Nash tossed a paper bag at him.

Saint John looked inside the bag, "Mm, Mmmm, a heart attack on a bun. Been a while but I'll take it, 'cause right now, I could eat the hind leg off a Burro," he kidded, pulling the now, cold burger out and taking a big bite.

"C'mon, we need to get back to base," Jo said jutting her chin over her shoulder to the Black SUV that Branson had lent them, "We're waiting till we're all together before working out how best to get Le back."

Saint John nodded around another mouthful, and they all left after pitching in and packing his stuff into the car.

A while later it was almost dark as they arrived at Santini Air. It had been a huge few days for everyone and Saint John in particular would need to get used to being in the hustle and bustle of this type of civilisation again. He did visit the likes of Calama and even Antofagasta on occasion, but it was for few days here and there and only when he needed some supplies or was helping his hosts out with something. Santini Air had been his home as a young man, with String and Jo too on occasion, so it wasn't surprising that he felt nostalgic as soon as they took the familiar drive into Van Nuys Airport. Branson's other SUV was sitting outside the Hanger as was Dom's old Jeep, Saint John shook his head at the stark contrast. "You still got that old jalopy?"

Jo huffed from her seat next to Nash, "Hey! I love that old jalopy, and if it aint broke, ya know?" she said simply as they came to a halt outside the building.

A short time later while sitting around the boardroom table, everyone looked wrecked with exhaustion, but they all agreed that they'd push through with making a decision on their next move or likely none of them would get a wink of sleep thinking about it.

"The way I see it is, we no longer have a choice but to let Michael know," Branson said, leaving the statement hanging the room.

Not surprisingly, the general reaction was fairly apathetic, but everybody was aware that if they wanted to find Le, the AMRB would likely be the only way to locate him and also give them some sort of back up support where Airwolf was concerned. History showed that there was no way Michael would allow that machine to fall into the hands of the Russians if he could help it. By the same token, there was also no way that this tight knit group would hand over The Lady to just anyone unless they had Le either. Even then there was still a lingering question to who would end up being the custodian for the machine once Le was back home in one piece.

"You want me to do the honours?" Branson asked not wanting to assume, even though he had clearly been the main contact to Mr Coldsmith-Briggs… the Third. The agent was still such a bone of contention with everyone that it was just easier for Branson represent them all.

They all exchanged anxious looks, then agreed with reluctant nods and murmurs. Branson's eye had rested on Saint John and Caitlin last, who were seated next to each other. They both had the most to lose and after Caitlin let out a resigned breath, she shrugged, "yup, may as well get it out of the way." She ran a hand through her locks.

Branson had left his phone in the Gulfstream and had used part of the time he'd spent waiting on Saint John, getting himself a cheap phone just in case there was a reason to put the kibosh on the general plan. Michael wouldn't take much time to find out that he was back in Van Nuys and start putting two and two together. As it was, Branson was a little surprised that he hadn't done that already, not that would change anything at this point, because he'd be fully aware in just a….

"Well? Aren't you going to call him?" Nash interrupted Branson's rambling thoughts.

"Yes," he came back into the moment, "Yes I am," Apparently, he'd been staring at the phone for some time. Stalling maybe. He dialled the number from a note he'd made on a slip of paper before he'd left the plane.

"Who is this?" Archangel asked suspiciously.

"Michael it's Branson."

"Ah Richards, Back in the land of the living, are you?" Archangel drawled, "Lost your cell?"

"Let's just say I'm back in the Land of Milk and Honey," Branson answered.

"Is that right?" Michael said absently. Branson could hear the gears grinding in Michael's head. "You weren't in Atlanta at all were you? None of you were."

"We've got Airwolf." Branson said, finally disclosing the groups accomplishment.

The office phone rang at the same time. It startled everybody in the room at the late hour and then Jo volunteered to take the extension in her office.


	8. 7 The Ghost

7

The Ghost

While Jo was out of the room Branson put the call on speaker. Recalling the last few days, Michael was reluctantly impressed with the furtive mission the group had been able to conduct and unsurprised to learn that Airwolf had made quick work of the helicopter. The Russians had clearly underestimated Airwolf again.

Jo returned to expectant looks, she shook her head, "wrong number," she said quietly. Her communicative glare indicated that now wasn't the time to ask. "Michael, Jo's just come back," Branson informed.

"Jo," Michael said, addressing her with a nod he knew she couldn't see.

"Archangel," Jo returned, coolly, "The other's filled you in?"

"They did, it's all a bit like déjá vu," he said lightly.

"Hm," Jo agreed reservedly, sliding into her chair.

Struck by the short and to the point approach Michael's former associates continued to portray, it was plain to hear that they still held a grudge and that they had no time for idle chit chat. He'd would have to work on that. What happened all those years ago had created a rift. He regretted the way things were conducted and was himself resentful that he had been made a scapegoat as a result.

Even so, he had to remember who he worked for and that his allegiance was supposed to be to America first. He had to be careful what he divulged to these fine - for the most part if you didn't count the felony of continuing to keep Airwolf hostage - upstanding citizens. "Total silence I'm afraid. I would say that by all accounts, they're licking their wounds and are waiting on us to gloat, because one thing is for sure. They don't have Airwolf and we do."

"No. Actually, we do." Branson reminded him.

Michael was suitably hushed and saved from the silence becoming too awkward by Caitlin.

"We might have Airwolf, but she's no good to us either way if we don't know where Le is," Caitlin mentioned causing Jo to shift uneasily.

Both Branson and Nash noticed and glanced at each other, Jo stared intently at the wooden surface of the table. There was clearly more to that phone call than she was willing to freely divulge.

"Well, you let us know if anything develops, but right now we all need some rest." Branson said hurrying the conference to a conclusion.

"We have our people on it," Archangel informed and then finished the call.

Nash turned to Jo, "Mom, are you ok? Who was that?" he asked with concern.

"I don't know," she said unsure of the answer to both questions. She took a piece of paper out of her pocket "I'm assuming that I just got a call from the Russians."

The group all sat forward in varying degrees of interest, "Well? What'd they have to say?" Nash asked.

Jo looked down, flattening out the note on the table, her eyebrows drawn together "these are the GPS coordinates for where they want us to take Airwolf." She swallowed hard. Glancing up, she scanned the ardent faces, "we have until last light at this pin on his birthday to make it happen, or they kill him."

"That's only two days!" Caitlin uttered, horrified, "did they say how he was?"

"I don't know hon, I have no other information, they warned me to listen or miss out on information, because they weren't going to repeat themselves. They hung up as soon as they were done," she said, punching in the Lat's and Long's of the location on her cell.

69°21′48″N 161°33′42″E

The satellite picture was blurry, so she zoomed out and she could just make out a faint outline of an unsealed airfield. "Looks like an abandoned strip," Jo mumbled in concentration. Zooming further out she saw that the location was in the north eastern tip of Siberia. "Good Lord, we're going to need support," she stated in frustration passing the cell around to show the others.

It was agreed that they'd start early the next day. They'd meet at Branson's hotel suit for breakfast and although they would try, it also looked like they still wouldn't sleep a wink after all.

The next morning and with dark circles under their eyes, the first thing they had to do was to drain the large pot of coffee Branson had brewing. A sumptuous breakfast buffet was wheeled into the suit and they spent the first half of the day deliberating how to pull off a second marathon effort in the space of a week.

"To tell the Bureau or not to tell the Bureau. That is the question." Branson said as he moved the scrambled eggs round with his fork.

Dale had left Branson's cell and a canaster of navigational maps for her uncle the night before. She needed to get back to her work and finish transferring the Gulfstream back into the black for him. She would fly it back to Atlanta later that day.

One of the corresponding maps was now spread over the centre of the table. It was easier to see the scale on paper rather than on a small device screen that they constantly had to scroll around on.

"We'd rather not." Caitlin said, yawning into her coffee cup.

"How do you propose we refuel? We can't risk landing, have we even got any contacts up around Alaska way? 'Cause I'm a little out of the loop," Saint John asked, looking around the room.

There was a resounding no, even from Branson, who shook his head, "no, that boat sailed a few years ago," he said wistfully thinking of the way his hands were tied in the takeover of one of his American aviation interests.

"We'd have to do a mid-air," Nash suggested, "I noted The Lady has a receiving probe."

"Yeah, but there's no way we could keep that quiet, or do you have a favour you could pull?" Jo asked her son hopefully.

"Pfft, fat chance," Nash dismissed, "I'd hazard to guess there'd be a constant unit over the Pacific North West right now. With all the hullabaloo that's going down lately, there'd be so much surveillance up that way, that I doubt I could pull a trick." Nash said of the thin sliver of water between Siberia and Alaska.

"Well that settles it then, all in favour of selling our souls?" Saint John asked knowing it wasn't all that far from the truth.

With the expected unenthused mumbles from around the table, they reluctantly agreed to hand all their support over to the AMRB - assuming that they'd actually get it.

Branson took a deep breath and picked up his cell. Caitlin reached out and touched his hand, stopped him from dialling, "Wait," she pled, "what are we going to do if he says he won't help us?"

Branson thought for a moment and shrugged, "We'll tell him we'll destroy her," he said seriously. Caitlin's hand slid from his and she nodded anxiously. It was all they had to bargain with and with one last glance around the table, he dialled the number and placed the cell down on the table.

"Richards?" Michael said in a questioning tone and not with his usual note of arrogance, "I'm assuming that this isn't a social call."

"You could say that." Branson answered in agreement.

"Oh, so you've got something?" Michael asked.

"Yes, yes we do, you're on speaker. We received contact from the Russians last night, we have till sundown Friday to deliver Airwolf or Le dies."

"Alright, so they gave you a location?" Michael asked, very keen to find out for himself.

"They did, but we need aerial support to get there." Branson answered.

"Coordinates?" Michael asked, knowing it would be a miracle if they disclosed them but he would try anyhow.

"Yes but you won't be privy to them." Was Branson's short answer.

"You know we can't give any sort of support if we have no detail Richards."

You now we can't give you coordinates, or you'll try to stop us Michael." Caitlin said, speaking up.

"We're on the same side people." Michael said, wishing they were at this point. It would wrap things far more quickly.

"Are we?" Jo asked, in a highly doubtful tone.

With a sigh from Saint John, he followed by assuring, "Archangel, if you don't help us, we'll fly Airwolf till she can't fly anymore."

Caitlin stared at String's brother with awe and nodded to herself, "That's our boy they have, and we'll do anything to get him back," she added.

"Then the best way to do that, is to disclose what you know." Michael argued.

"I don't think so Michael, would you be jumping over yourself if the Russians had contacted you?"

"We would have negotiated more time, that's what they do, they demand things that they know they won't get first up and we work from there. You people are in way over your head."

"That's why we're asking for your help, Michael," Jo said trying to play nice.

"Jo, I appreciate that, but I already told you that without more to go on…"

"And we told you, that if you want any chance of keeping Airwolf in one piece, you'll do this no questions asked," Nash added, not playing nice and earning himself a warning glare from not just his mother.

"You people would really do that?" Michael asked. Maybe he had underestimated this group.

"Not if you people can help it." Branson spoke calmly, the art of negotiation was more his thing than Nash's.

"Richard's, _if _I can get the support, what do you need?" Michael asked, knowing that there was a corner coming.

"Saint John?" Branson nodded to Hawke, giving him the floor.

"We need an airborne tanker at Bering and then again in the North Pacific on our return."

"And who will fly her?" Michael asked.

"We're not sure…" Branson started.

"Cait and I will," Saint John volunteered, before Branson could finish, "we're the most experienced and…"

"He's our boy," Caitlin said, finishing the sentence.

"Is that a good idea?" Michael paused, "considering he is your boy as you say." Thinking that it really wasn't ideal that the most invested people would be the one's on the mission.

"We're all emotionally invested Archangel, if that's what you're getting at," Caitlin defended almost as if reading Michaels mind. "Who do you suggest fly's Airwolf? Nash and Jo? No disrespect guys," she placated, "but we haven't got the time to train Nash for either position, we have many more hours on her then anyone here and we know her better than anyone, we also know her weapons systems and her quirks, she's old technology and…"

"Ok, ok, a little less of the old thank you, you've made your point." Michael had to agree, even though he was concerned that like himself, there might be a question to reaction speed etc as one aged, but they had him up against the wall. "I'll see what I can do."

"You do that, they'll be gone at first light." Nash goaded.

"Nash, you're sounding just like Stringfellow Hawke," Michael pointed out.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Nash accepted proudly.

"Hm," Michael answered dubiously, "I'll get back to you ASAP."

The rest of the day was spent shipping drums of fresh fuel to The Lair and getting Airwolf flight ready with the help of the diagnostics computer. Surprisingly there was very little amiss with the bird and certainly nothing that needed urgent attention. Saint John had done a beautiful job of looking after the Lady. Caitlin in particular also took time refamiliarizing herself with the seat in The Lady's EDCC (Electronic Data Command Centre) and both her and Saint John sharpened their shooting skills outside, just in case.

"They're what!" Michael yelled through the phone at the disturbing news the next day.

"You heard me," Branson said calmly although he was extremely worried for his two friends.

That morning, earlier then they originally planned, both Saint John and Caitlin had departed well before daybreak. The previous evening, everyone had wished them good luck and said their goodbye's for now. The pair had slept at The Lair to save time and to maximise rest - not that they really got any with all the anxiety that they were dealing with- but at least they could quietly go about their routine and get away with the knowledge that they had the advantage over Archangel.

"You've put me in a very difficult position, but that was the intention wasn't it, Richards?" Michael said thinking he'd be used to it by now because whenever Airwolf was concerned, frustration seemed to follow.

"If it's any consolation, we didn't know Saint John or Cait had jumped the gun until they radioed and were already over the Pacific a few minutes ago." Branson explained, "But it is what it is, and they have enough fuel to get to the Bering. The ball's in your court, no matter what. They have the old FIRM channel open if you want to stop them from falling into the ocean."

Michael sighed in his exasperation, "Alright, I can see that our hand has been forced, I try to convince the AMRB not to let Airwolf slip through our fingers."

"I'm sure you won't let that happen and I'm sure that you have options. I'm also sure AMRB don't want to lose Airwolf anymore then we do." Branson said, grinning in triumph despite the grim circumstance.

"You're not making is very easy on us." Michael said, stating the obvious and dreading the conversation he was going to have to have with the director.

"This isn't easy on anyone Michael," Branson countered quickly as he looked around the room at the people who were all working together on lifting the bus that the AMRB and then he - by association - had thrown them under.

"Hm, I'll keep in touch." Michael promised.

"You know where I am," Branson assured and hung up.

Heading northwest, The Lady carried Caitlin and Saint John either towards their son or towards their demise. They talked strategy for hours overnight and concluded that maybe it didn't really matter. If things didn't work out to their best laid plans, they would just take it as it came and wing it, so to speak.

"Beautiful Lady, this is Santini Air, do you read?" Nash's voice crackled over the radio on the Santini band width from the hangar.

"Here we go Cait," Saint John said apprehensively. He pressed the PTT button for the radio "Copy that, hope you have something positive Nash."

"Yeah. You'll be happy to know that Archangel organised a KC-135 from Seattle about an hour ago, it's callsign for you is Stiff Drink, because he thinks that's what we all need when you get back safely. And the tanker is The Bar"

The pair chuckled.

"Funny guy," Saint John said dryly.

"I'm pleased to see that Michaels so hopeful for our return Wings," Caitlin said, somewhat happy that their gamble had paid off and she wasn't going to die. Not by drowning in any case.

"Thanks Nash, we'll be in touch, out." Saint John said, breathing out a sigh of relief as he signed off and then turned to Caitlin. "Nice to know they care."

"Oh they care alright," Caitlin answered sceptically, "just not too sure if it's for us or for The Lady."

"Well, we got our fuel, so at this point it doesn't matter either way. Can you get a fix on that 135 for me, we'll see where she's at and have a chat," Saint John said as he asked Caitlin to use Airwolf's TADS (Target Acquisition and Designation System) and Radar.

Caitlin gave the instructions to the Airwolf computer and the screens scrolled through any Aircraft within her radar range until it stopped and flashed on a KC-135, "Got a lock on her, she's about 400 miles north of us, nearing Kodiak Island,"

"Perfect," he said to Caitlin, before dialling up the tanker scoffing at the ridiculousness of it, "The Bar, The Bar, this is Stiff Drink, do you copy?"

"Stiff Drink, The Bar is ready to trade, what's your ETA?"

"We'll be on your tail in about thirty minutes if you track one eight zero from your current position at flight level two one zero and maintain your speed."

"Copy that. Say, what are you flying?"

Saint John grinned, "That's classified, but you'll see soon enough. Out."

Thirty minutes later, Saint John re-established radio contact with the tanker to let them know that he had a visual on them. They came up to the observation area on their left as the plane slowed to three hundred knots for the refuelling process.

"Cait, engage rotors," he asked, turning off the turbo's to wash off their speed. They crept up to fly in line with the larger aircraft's cockpit.

Glancing to their left as their mystery receiver came alongside, the crew of the jet took a doubletake. They had already slowed to three hundred knots and this helo was keeping up easily. "What the fuck?" the co-pilot let his reaction spill out through the intercom.

The pilot looked at his ASI to check he wasn't seeing things. He was bang on three hundred, which was faster than any helicopter he knew, and he knew most of them. "Hey Stevens, get load of this Gucci," he said to the older refueler, who was retiring at the end of the year. This would give him a real thrill, the man had seen it all and this would make a fine addition to his experiences.

Stevens peeked out of the cabin window and it almost brought tears to his eyes. "That's her! By golly! It's The Ghost!" he said of the mythical aircraft that he'd refuelled more than thirty years ago.

At the time he was new on the boom, wet behind the ears and was the only guy on crew to see her. The guys up the front were too busy wagering what they were refuelling because, like on this mission, it was also highly classified. Both the pilot and co-pilot were wrong, this bird was neither a Harrier nor an SR-71 but those boys didn't find out the truth until they retired only a few years ago. Stevens was hounded relentlessly to spill the beans so they could finally settle it. In the end they wore him down and he told them it was a helicopter. They, of course didn't believe him, and so the legend of The Ghost continued.

"Say again," the pilot asked.

"It's The Ghost, Chief," Stevens repeated, leaving the crew to head to the tail.

What happened on this mission had to stay on this mission, so they would talk about this while they were flying back, but it could go no further than that. For now they had to do their job and not ask questions.

Thankful for the unofficial radio channel, the crew could speak more candidly then when on a general refuelling excursion, "Nice bird you got there, let's hook up."

Saint John smiled, he knew the crew would keep this to themselves, but were likely wondering what the heck they'd stumbled upon. "is that the way you talk to all the ladies?" he joked, "you can look all you like. No touching though, and if you're good, I'll even let you buy her a drink."

That made the crew laugh. Stephens smiled, as he settled in his station at the tail of the plane and retracted the wind shield to get a clear view. He wanted to savour every second because he might never see this sleek machine ever again.

Saint John pulled back and reapproached the tanker from underneath avoiding the jet wash and other dirty air to make a smooth connection. The basket deployed and Saint John eased The Lady into the zone on fingertip control.

"Contact." He heard through his helmet as Airwolf's short probe locked onto the drobe, "You're taking fuel." Saint John pushed forward to give the line a bit of slack to get some leeway in case of instability.

"Cait can you read out fuel for me please," Saint John said as he concentrated on aircraft stability.

"Copy that," she said as the quarter reading came up, "fuel five hundred." Three more readings and they had filled up. "Fuel seventeen hundred," Caitlin announced indicating it was time to disconnect.

"Such a pleasure to be of service again, Sir," the refueler said cryptically "and God speed." He waved a salute through the windshield.

"Thank you," Saint John said, returning the greeting and backed out, disconnecting from the tanker and going wide to the right before again creeping up near to cockpit level. "Much appreciated, have a nice day."

"Back at you, I didn't catch your name," the pilot hinted to a continuation from their previous banter.

Saint John chuckled, "I didn't say," were the last words spoken to the tanker, as he called "Turbo's," to Caitlin.

The tanker crew were left watching the helicopter shoot off like its tail was on fire, "What did we just see?" the co-pilot asked the other crew.

Following the directive the Pilot gave chase and pushed all four throttles forward while the Navigator kept his eye on Airwolf's retreating form.

"I already told ya, that was The Ghost," Stevens grinned before their mission wrapped up and they eventually lost sight of the mystery chopper.

Passing over Saint Paul Island, they still had about five hundred miles to fly before they arrived at the Airfield. It was the middle of summer, so hell hadn't frozen over yet and the days were long, last light wasn't until 2230 for which they were thankful. It gave them the extra hours they so desperately needed.

Back at Santini Air, Archangel had made himself as comfortable as he could.

"What? No White Knight outfit? Jo asked, teasing Michael who, since the last time they'd met, was now was wearing much less conspicuous black slacks, a simple tie and light blue shirt. She handed him a strong coffee.

Archangel shook his head and gave a lopsided smile, "Unlike Airwolf, some things are better off left back in the eighties" he said before taking a sip from his mug.

They sat around in anticipation together with Nash and Branson, waiting for word from the refuelling rendezvous. Michaels cell rang. Swallowing the bitter liquid and placed his drink on a coaster, "Yeah?... uh huh, …..really? ….good. Keep me posted."

Surveying the others around the table, he announced, "you'll all be happy to know they're still in the air. The KC-135 crew kept visual on them with binoculars for a while. They stayed straight as an arrow on that heading until they lost sight of them. The last town on the map before you fall off it would be Ambarchik.

"Dang you got us," Nash stated, knowing that it didn't matter any longer whether the AMRB knew Airwolf's whereabouts, they were too far into it to get them back now.

"Yes we do Nash, which is why we've had everyone on it, looking for something new around that area and if we knew earlier, we may have been able to do more to help," he said smugly, leaving his colleagues to ponder that. He glanced down at his cell again just as it dinged, indicating an email and shared the picture with the others. "This is the latest recognisance satellite picture taken as soon as it was over the area we think Airwolf is headed."

"It's a vessel," Nash chimed in not denying the location.

"Oh, you're good," Michael said in jest, "it's the prototype Project 23550 Military Icebreaker on its first Government mission, since you people know where Airwolf is going, please note the coordinates. I wager that they are within twenty miles of your numbers at the never used Dresba Airfield on the Kolyma River, am I right?" he asked, glancing at the others who had the grace to quietly agree. "Ok then, we have the Pacific Northwest on alert for any support that Airwolf might need, but it only extends to Russian borders. After that they're on their own. You're on your own."

"We may as well give Saint John and Cait the heads up." Jo suggested.

They all agreed.

"Beautiful Lady, this is Archangel, do you copy?" Saint John heard Archangel's voice through his headset.

"Yeah, I copy," Saint John answered, less than enthused. "How'd you get our frequency?" he said, more a statement than a question.

"You know, it's a real pain in the ass that it takes a successful air to air to confirm you're still in it?" Micheal continued his previous condescension and ignored Saint John's inquiry.

"It warms my heart that you're so concerned," Saint John countered, equally cynical.

"Of course I'm concerned, we've got three old frames in the Air and they're all only just holding together," he said, only half joking.

"Hey!" Caitlin called out, only mildly annoyed, because there was unfortunately some truth to what Archangel was saying.

"Pot-Kettle," Saint John said and then sighed. "To what do we owe the pleasure Michael." He asked, before Michael relayed all the information he had on the icebreaker sitting near the mouth of the Kolyma River.

After wrapping up the conversation by thanking Michael for the information, Caitlin was starting to feel hungry. They were still rocketing over the Bering Sea and had a while to travel yet. She pulled out lunch for them to eat. "Ham and cheese or PB & J?" she asked Saint John.

"Gees I haven't had either in so long, they're not exactly a Chilean staple y'know? Ham and cheese please." He said, feeling his mouth watered.

Caitlin half unwrapped the sandwich and handed it over. Luckily Airwolf had an auto pilot so Saint John could comfortably use his hands without juggling other things and roughing up the ride.

Caitlin also made him a coffee from The Lady's rather obscure coffee maker - much to Nash's amusement, he had made point of servicing and restocking it before they left.

Moffett must have really loved coffee.

"So what was your staple?" She asked him casually, as she passed his drink over in a travel mug.

"Llama stew," he answered taking a bite of his sandwich and savouring it.

Caitlin screwed her nose up, "Taste like chicken?" she asked as a joke.

"Nope, more like gamey lamb," he answered, following up with a sip of his coffee.

"So…." Caitlin wanted to know more about Saint John. He'd been missing in all the time she'd known String and Dom and only knew him for a few weeks when the former was so sick, there was barely any time to make friends with everyone tag teaming String's bedside visits at the cabin to watch over him.

"Spit it out Cait," Saint John smiled to himself. The two old friends still had a couple of hours to kill before they confronted one of the biggest challenges in their life. They may as well get acquainted with each other to kill some time.

Caitlin felt a nervous pang flutter in her chest and had been wondering for some time what the heck a man like him did in the middle of nowhere. She was also naturally curious who he might have been passing all that time with too. Surely he wasn't just splitting his time with the farm and the cave to tinker with Airwolf? He was after all a fine looking man, surely he'd found a lady friend, even if it was only with benefits.

"We'll, I was wondering if you had yourself a sweetheart back in Chile?" she found herself asking, thankful that she was in the back and able to hide her blush.

Saint John grinned to himself, he couldn't deny that he was just a little bit thrilled at the prospect of Cait's interest, but was sad at the same time that it brought back memories of a love that could never be.

"Ah Cait," he sighed, "You know what they say, better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all."

"Oh sorry, I didn't mea…"

"No, that's perfectly fine, happens to the best of us. There," he took a breath, "was someone in Camala, I met her on the first day I arrived. It was when I dropped off Isadora. There was so much going on in the town that day and we only met again when Diego needed company to pick up his wife and baby a week or so later. She was one of the doctors that helped us in emergency and she caught my eye straight away. Anyway, long story short she bumped into me while I was operating a vending a machine in a hall near the waiting room. I stepped back and nearly cleaned her up. She was off duty and was just heading home, so we got talking after I apologised and the rest as they say is history."

Caitlin could hear the warmth in his voice as he recalled the event and smiled, "sounds like she didn't mind one bit. Bumping into you, I mean."

"Well it sure was fortunate for me," he agreed.

"Can I ask what happened?" Caitlin asked after Saint John had been quiet for a moment, "Sorry, just tell me if I'm being too nosey."

"No, no, it's not that, it's just." He stopped again. "Just that I've never really talked about it. I shouldn't have started anything with anyone in the first place. I was under self-imposed cover and really couldn't fulfil my side of the bargain like I should have. If I had moved to Calama, none of it would have happened, I would have been there to protect her, to protect Maria.

"Anyway, there was a break in at her home in ninety four and she was killed." He said plainly.

Caitlin gasped, "Oh no, I'm so sorry," she said genuinely horrified and almost regretted asking, "but you know that you can't blame yourself, right?"

"I know," he said, thinking for a second, "but I don't think I'll ever be able to shake the feeling that things would've been different if I'd have been there."

"Would've, could've, should've. Seriously Saint John, wasn't it enough that there was one Hawke brother that beat himself up about the losses in his life?" Caitlin pointed out.

String had always tortured himself about being cursed with losing everyone he ever loved, it's what caused him to isolate himself and appear utterly miserable when he was in one of his funks. It was a great shame, because in the moments he was momentarily distracted from it, he really was magnificent.

Saint John thought hard about that and couldn't help but agree, "Yeah, I guess you have a point. Be patient with me Cait, I need some time to get used to peopling again"

In the distance, the landscape changed. "Welcome to Russia," he announced as they made landfall. "Stealth?" he asked checking Airwolf's immediate vitals.

"Ninety four percent." Caitlin answered as Saint John disengaged the autopilot and took them down.

With a tinge of green the desolate scenery passed beneath the ground hugging helicopter. Saint John was really flying now, keeping them both alert as they manoeuvred through the rocky, moss covered mountain ranges, their highest peaks topped with snow. Water wound its way through the valleys, fringed with low laying bushes and boulders. The occasional stand of trees surprised them, protected by microclimates as they continued on. It was a whole different kind of nothing that Saint John was used out in the Atacama Desert. They blasted their way to the north for the next 300 miles, becoming more and more anxious as they approached their destination.

The setting flattened out as they flew on, the land became marshy and covered with abundant water systems. What was covered in snow and ice in winter, was an equally inhospitable swamp stretching for hundreds, if not thousands of miles.

As they neared their location, an alarm sounded in the cabin, "Cait, please run a scan for me?" he asked as he coasted back toward rotor speed by shutting off the turbo's. "Engage rotors."

After a moment, Caitlin received her information and announced, "We have a radar facility about twenty miles ahead. Nothing in the air and a chopper on the ground, dead ahead." Caitlin answered, double checking the smooth transition into normal helicopter flight.

"ID?"

"Let's see, a Ka-27?" She rattled off, as the graphics images and a description of the chopper in question lit Airwolf's TADS screen. "It's armed, two times forward facing rotary guns and a Torpedo pod, currently empty."

Saint John nodded, "Those birds were popular in anti-submarine defence. Good to see that nothing ever changes in this neck of the woods."

"Pardon?" Caitlin asked, confused. All the firearm jargon was a bit over her head. Luckily, she only had to read it out and not completely grasp the complete array of weaponry in The Lady's files.

"The gear is so old that The Lady can still identify it," he explained.

"Oh," Caitlin understood, which both reassured and worried her at the same time.

"Ah, there's our welcoming committee." Saint John pointed out as they approached the pin. The large, boxy helo with coaxial rotors, stood out in the open – everything out here stood out in the open.

A couple of men stepped out of the machine having spotted The Lady's arrival. Slowing to a hover, some distance away, Caitlin scanned radio frequencies, finding what she was looking for.

"Kamov Helicopter, we have visual on you, have you been waiting long?" Saint John asked, opening with friendly dialogue.

The radio crackled "Mr Hawke, you are just in time. Please come. Follow us."

"Where's Le?" Saint John asked in doubt since his son would likely make a huge fuss over being forced to fly.

"Patience, Mr. Hawke." The man said as the chopper on the ground started to wind up.

A minute later, both helicopters were making their way due north and following a river towards the open ocean. Another warning beacon sounded, "We have an unidentified target ahead, running scan now." Caitlin announced. "It's a boat, but nothing in Airwolf's computers can make a match, closest is a Corvette, four hundred feet long, 75 millimetre gun turret on the foredeck, that's all we got."

"That'll be our ship," Saint John said following the rotor-less tail of the Russian chopper. The ship came into view in the typical Navy grey one would expect. Sure enough, it had a substantial gun turret on the bow and a large helipad on the rear deck. Flying closer, Saint John spotted a hangar built under the bridge and cabin area and also two tenders nestled beneath the rear deck and recessed into the side of the hull. Finally there were a couple of empty missile launchers mounted on the stern. This was not your average icebreaker.


	9. 8 That Sinking Feeling

**8**

**That Sinking Feeling.**

"Please, be our guest Mr Hawke. I give you the best parking on the ship," another man's thick Russian accent crackled through his headset, insisting that Airwolf should land first. "The Captain tells me there's a little storm ahead and we cannot risk damaging our new acquisition." He said with a tone of evil glee.

"Not so fast. How do we know that you even have Le?" Saint John asked, just as he spotted more movement on the deck.

"See for yourself, Mr Hawke," the man informed when three men appeared on deck. One with his hands tied behind him.

"Cait?" Saint John asked for confirmation, knowing only she could be absolutely certain that the prisoner was in fact Le. She double checked Airwolf's old monitor as she zoomed into the scene below.

With her voice tight, all she could do was gasp their sons name as her heart wrenched in her chest and her eyes became instantly glassy. There was no doubt that her and Saint John had no choice but to comply to the crew's demands.

"Shit," Saint John mumbled under his breath, being in the hangar would complicate things. "Looks like we're gonna be stowed in the hold Cait, best that you do the same," Saint John advised as Caitlin unbuckled from her seat.

Caitlin glanced at the man in the pilot's seat and then gave one last longing look at the monitor, before rechecking her sidearm and hiding in the small compartment in the rear firewall for the second time on a rescue mission. This one being hands down, the most important she'd ever be on.

Selecting gear down, Saint John landed Airwolf on the deck a few seconds later. The swell had already started to roll the Icebreaker. It was built to crack ice, not slice through the stormy seas that would soon assault them on the East Siberian Sea. He left The Lady on standby, so all her systems would be ready for anything they might need at a moment's notice. As her rotors wound down, Saint John removed his helmet "Hang in there," he said quietly to both Caitlin and the machine before opening the door. Gingerly, he stepped out of the cabin and felt every one of his seventy three years, his body not being used to sitting idle for so long.

Saint John locked eyes onto the tall half Asian man, flanked closely by two guards. Le eyes carried the same expression as his mother. Even though Saint John's memory of her was vague now, he'd never forget the way Tan's brown eyes used to convey her character and this moment was something that struck him like a wrecking ball. It had been so long. Too long. The older man swallowed as he stood, not knowing what liberties he could take with the armed men and with Le handcuffed the way he was.

Three more men had appeared while Saint John had been momentarily distracted. "Thank you for bringing me a present, Mr Hawke," one said as he stepped forward. Saint John recognised his voice as being the one who gave him the order to land on deck and he was clearly the man in charge. He blatantly stared at The Lady without making eye contact with Saint John. "Happy Birthday Mr Van-Hawke. One for you ... and one for me," he mused with a sinister smile on his face. "Magnificent." He marvelled and then yelled out orders in Russian. The two new arrivals pounced and grabbed Saint John by the arms, frisking him and quickly escorting both he and Le inside the ship. Saint John didn't struggle, he had been pretty certain that he would become a prisoner all along. He just hoped he could get himself, Le and Caitlin out of here and preferably safely on board Airwolf

There were more foreign orders made and a bit of pushing and shoving as the group made their way down the narrow hallways and steep stairs deep into the hold. He just made out the sound of the other helicopter topside before he was pushed into the brig, followed by Le after his hands were freed.

"Just like home," Saint John mumbled looking around at the sparse space. There were four berths set up as two sets of bunks against opposite walls and a stainless steel head and sink for washing up between them and against the far wall.

"I'm glad that it meets your approval." The Russian man said humourlessly.

"Who do I call for room service?" Saint John asked.

The man huffed, "My apologies, I did not introduce myself, Yuri Provov."

Meanwhile The Lady had been pushed into the hanger and the Ka-27 landed once the helipad was cleared. Safely inside, Airwolf was tied down to keep her in place during the storm. Caitlin would be in for a long wait.

Hearing the Russians bustle about outside, she startled a few times as Airwolf's doors were opened and closed by curious crew before they were apparently instructed to keep their hands off. The hangar doors closed not long after, leaving them alone. Even though it agonised her, there was nothing much that Caitlin could do, but stay put.

Back at Van Nuys, Michael was on a call. "Ok. Send it through," he ordered before finishing up and standing.

He had spent the entire time at Santini Air. He and the others remaining on the edge of their seats while they waited for something, anything regarding Le's rescue mission.

"They found something?" Nash asked referring to Archangels intel.

"Yeah, just waiting for the detail," he said not looking away from his phone before it pinged.

As he read the brief, his face remained passive but he did blow out a breath with puffed cheeks before he started. "Yuri Provov. He's the son of Alexi Provov, who was a previous Russian operative for the KGB. The Firm had a run in with Alexi back in eighty four. He was part of a plan to steal the blueprints to Airwolf during the Winchester debacle." He waved off dismissively.

"Yuri was a kid at the time. His father failed to return to Russia with the tapes they were apparently copied to. Thankfully. But he was also failed to bring back another Russian agent on the same mission." He continued as he paced the floor carefully in his unease.

"Gloriana Brevnacov was the daughter of a top ranked official of the KGB and was assigned to get close enough to Winchester to gather intel. They became lovers, so our guess is there was a lot of bedroom talk," Archangels mouth lifted only on one side, thinking it wasn't quite time to make light of the situation.

The others recognised this as the story that Caitlin touched on lightly a few days ago.

"Gees' you undercover types sure go the extra mile," Nash huffed with grin as he sat back in his chair with his arms folded, not thinking at all about propriety.

Michael glanced up momentarily, but otherwise ignored him to continue, "This is where it gets interesting," he said before reading again from the brief " Yuri Provov was in LA in 2015, only a few months after Russia declared their Space Forces.

"He was recorded on CCTV entering the Bank of America in downtown LA. We've since learned that he collected from a safety deposit box." He finally looked up at the others who were all listening with eager intent.

The air was thick in anticipation. "Care to share Michael?" Jo prompted.

Archangel's mouth turned up as his shook his head slightly, huffing through his nose. "We traced the box back to one Diana Norris, Winchester's assistant."

He only received blank looks, "Keep up. Diana Norris was Gloriana Brevnacov.

"There's no telling what was in that safety deposit box, but whatever it was, Yuri Provov now has it. How do you suppose a humble labourer in the St Petersburg Shipyard has, in relatively short succession of three years, been elevated to taking charge of development in the Russian Arctic Defence Strategy?"

"Sounds like the man has a bone to pick," Sir Branson presumed.

Back in the brig, the rocking motion of the vessel caused the men to take a seat as soon as the crew left them alone, excusing themselves to get the ship moving ahead of the storm. Knowing icebreakers weren't particularly sea-worthy and Saint John had a feeling that they'd be in for a rough ride.

Staring at one another, there was a long awkward silence, with both men not really knowing where to start.

Finally Saint John Cleared his throat. "How have they been treating you?" he asked.

Le shrugged, "Ok I guess, considering I've been abducted. Sorry about that by the way," he apologised, having beaten himself up about causing the series of events that landed everyone in this predicament.

Saint John shook his head, "No need to apologise, son…" he started again noting Le shift uncomfortably, "Le, I-I'm not going to be great at addressing the elephant in the room, but I will get there. Fact is that yes, I am your dad, and I'm here for you now. But right now, we need to figure out a way to get off this tub before we hit landfall," he said, not realising just how foretelling his words would be.

Le nodded, his mind was all over the place. Still not quite believing that here in front of him, was his father and after all the build-up of possibilities, he was confused as to why he felt so flat about their first interaction. He imagined that when he and his dad first met, it would be like coming home and everything would be … just right. Perhaps it was the situation, but he felt about as far away from just right as he ever had and there had been so many wrongs along the way in his life.

"What do you know about these people?" Saint John asked.

"A lot more then they think I do," Le mumbled.

"Oh? How so?" Saint John asked as the ships engines engaged, moving it forward in a soft motion.

"Well, the fact I can understand every word they say might have something to do with it," Le looked up at the other man to gauge his reaction.

Saint John smiled, "That's is certainly some advantage," he acknowledged.

"Maybe," Le shrugged, "but it'll be of no use if we die here," he said pessimistically.

"Since we have some time, why not humour me?" Saint John asked, urging Le to share. Not only was he curious about what Le had learned, he also wanted to know his reserved son a little better and just talking would be a way to built some trust between them.

Le admitted that there wasn't much to go on, but he got the idea that Yuri Provov was consumed with revenge and that this wasn't the first time that the Provov and Hawke names had crossed. He mentioned that Provov had proof that Airwolf had built in technology so advanced even by today's standards, that acquiring the chopper would make Russian forces invincible. "I don't know what it is, just general talk that might be me adding two and two and then getting five. I've got nothing on how to get out of here apart from knowing the routine, which might change now you're here anyway."

Saint John rubbed the stubble that had grown on his chin over the last day. Airwolf certainly was a remarkable machine and he'd always harboured questions about her that he couldn't even begin to answer. He merely accepted Airwolf's abilities and flew along for the ride. He'd been lucky that none of her more advanced technical systems had failed in all the time that he's looked after her. She wasn't a hanger queen and he and Diego Jr. only ever tinkered with her mechanical and simple electrical systems.

While contemplating whether to mention Caitlin's presence or not, they were interrupted by a crew member, who had arrived to give them their evening meal. Once the guy left them, Saint John decided not to say anything for the moment.

As time went by, the ship started to list from side to side more aggressively. It crashed into the seas rather than through it like a conventional vessel. The two men in the brig could only wait it out and hope that they'd stay safe.

On the bridge, the Russian crew constantly checked the radar as the rare summer storm bore down on them. Not since the great storm of August 2012 had he seen one like it in the Arctic. As they continued, the ship started to struggle to keep its heading pointing into the swell. The bow almost going under the water or being pushed sideways along the face of the oncoming water. The crew worked hard as the captain continued on, his engineer notifying him that engine number three was overheating.

Curled up in her cramped hidey spot, Caitlin started to feel a little queasy with the increased movement, so she opened the hatch and allowed herself to breath in some much fresher air. She could hear the thunder and see the lightning leak through an observation window in the corner of the hangar. The Lady's rotors moved on their pivots, clinking as if they were caught in a stiff breeze. Her lashings were tested as they held her securely to the deck.

Caitlin didn't like it one bit and she wasn't sure if it was a gut feeling or her slightly upset tummy, but she decided it was time find Le and Saint John.

In the engine room, one of the four giant diesels had to be shut down. The engineers had thrown everything they could at it to cool it down, even going so far as to use a few personnel fans to blow moving air across its surface. The diesels powered the twin electric Sterndrives, but on three quarter power, the ship was hopelessly ill equipped to handle these sorts of seas.

On they forged as night fell and hours later, the storm had been named an extratropical cyclone with winds in excess of 100 knots.

The engine room called the bridge, letting the Capitan know that engine number two was also starting to struggle with overheating issues. The man swore and passed the news onto Provov and informing him that if they needed to shut the second big diesel, that they would seriously have to think about abandoning ship. Running the remaining two engines on full power indefinitely, would likely have them succumb to the same fate. They simply weren't designed to do that.

Provov argued, stating that the cargo was worth more than the Capitan's life and proceeded to pull a gun on the ship's crew to prove a point.

The Capitan kept as close eye on the radar and his instruments. The restricted view outside was made more ominous by the driving rain on the windshields and the multitude of spotlights illuminating the shear faces of water ahead.

With the short night almost over and the sky attempting a dull glow, the lights flickered on the bridge and he noted engine number two going off-line.

"That is it!" the Capitan declared in his native tongue, "it is not safe, we need to evacuate." The ship lurched again.

Provov lifted his gun to emphasise that no, he wouldn't accept that. Listing the other way, Provov stumbled and the Capitan took advantage and hit the evacuation alarm.

"You fool!" Provov roared in Russian and shot the Capitan in anger. Provov's men also drew their arms to cover their superior as the ship's crew scrambled to help their man.

"You!" He waved his gun at the Chief Officer, who was on his knees next to his motionless leader. "Keep this boat on course!"

"Impossible Provov! We will all be doomed!" he pleaded as the second officer who'd taken position at the helm struggled to maintain their heading. Even with all the modern joystick control, the vessel simply wasn't responding like she would have been with access to full power.

The Navigator had a feeling of dread run down his spine as he kept a close eye on the radar, "we have a formation, two miles, heading 002!"

The Chief Officer scrambled to take the helm.

There wasn't much room to move away from their current course, if a formation started and touched down at sea level, it could be the end of them. As they struggled on, more light illuminated the world ahead, they all struggled to see with their own eyes what the instruments were indicating. They all hoped that the instruments were incorrect. Rising up and levelling over the next wave crest crushed their hope.

"Oh my god!" the Chief Officer shouted, the terror on his face evident as a giant waterspout touched down ahead.

The alarm could be heard throughout the ship. The below deck crew scrambled, donning their safety gear and started to make their way to one of the two lifeboats recessed in the side of the ship's hull and could be reached internally. With all the commotion of the ship sounds, the alarm, and the animated exchanges among themselves, they all missed the hollers of their captives as they bypassed the corridor to the brig.

Caitlin startled as she was also alerted by the alarm and did her best to stay on two feet while she made her way to an access hatch in the hangar wall. With the floor heaving beneath her feet, she found that she wasn't really the greatest sailor.

Being a bulkhead, she had to unwind the lock before being able to step through. That was challenge in itself and she had to be careful not to get caught in the heavy door and be crushed as it swung back and forth with the movement of the boat.

With her back to the wall, she drew her side arm and systematically checked every room that she could on her way. Hearing a commotion ahead she backed up and hid in the last room she cleared. A number of crew to rushed past. Letting out a breath, a loose chair slid towards her across the floor and she quickly jumped aside to avoid it. All around, there were bangs and crashes of loose items falling and smashing. The groans of the ship only served to urge her to find Le and Saint John before it was too late.

On the Bridge the men watched the tornado continue to develop. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. The seas were monstrous and the ship was unable to leave its present course if they wanted to avoid capsizing and unless the funnel changed course, there was no escaping it.

The Icebreaker rolled precariously on its smooth rounded hull and another alarm sounded as one of lifeboats was engaged.

"What is that?" Provov asked. His men starting to get nervous as the conditions became progressively worse.

"The crew have started to evacuate," the C.O. informed, "If we don't go now, it will be too late!"

"No!" Provov roared, his eyes wild now. He needed to get that helicopter back to Moscow and once he did, Commander Sergei Surov would reward him handsomely. This was not an option. It was up to him to restore his family's honour and finally deliver the ultimate weapon that was promised for Russia's aerospace arsenal in the eighties. Yuri Provov had become obsessed with the mythical helicopter that ended his father's life.

Of course he knew it wasn't the _Mind of the Machine_ that did the damage but the American at the controls. Stringfellow Hawke.

How fitting was it then, that he now had not only the prized helicopter in the hold, but also all of Hawkes remaining family. Oh, but how well he would be rewarded. There was no way Yuri was going to let the Airwolf slip through his hands, revenge as they say is so, so sweet.

Caitlin had made her way through to the lower decks, stumbling along the way as she fought from being slammed from wall to wall while the ship rocked and rolled. Above the noise of the chaos around her, she heard a sharp chinking of steel on steel.

Carefully she continued on, not neglecting to cover herself when passing every nook and cranny. The chinking continued, guiding her closer as it became louder.

The two men in the cell had been using Le's belt buckle to bang on the steel barred door. The reverberating sound spreading through the rest of the surrounding steel that the ship was made from.

Caitlin approached the door, keeping herself out of sight and her back against the wall.

"It's no use, we've been left here," Le said, with a despondent tone.

Caitlin frowned at her son's often bleak attitude.

"Son, if there's one thing I learned over my lifetime, it's to never give up." Saint John said calmly and with mild reproach.

The boat reeled again and Caitlin used the movement to totter towards the men. Drawing her weapon again as part of the course, she noted that the two men were the only ones behind bars, she relaxed he stance. The palpable relief rolled off them as soon as they laid eyes on that wonderful woman.

"Mom?"

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eye's" the two inmates said together.

"Time to break you boys out of here," she grinned at the sight of the men.

"Mom?" Le asked in disbelief.

Cait smiled, but there wasn't any time for pleasantries, "Out of the way!" she ordered as she took aim.

Pointing her gun at the lock, she shot it out.

As soon as the door swung open, Le accosted his mother with a strong hug. Saint John reached out and touched Caitlin's arm warmly, causing her to glance at Saint John awkwardly before giving him a tight smile and wriggling out of her son's arms, "C'mon, we need to get out of here."

The helm of the ship was on the verge of a mutiny. Provov's second in charge dared to question him about saving their souls, which earned him a warning to blow his brains out.

The twister threatened on their port side. The Chief Officer sent out the suggestion to don life vests and to brace themselves for the worst, just as an additional weather warning alert sounded.

"Enough! No more talk! We will stay on this heading!" Provov growled. The intercom buzzed on the console and he snapped, proceeding to shoot at the offending interruption in his agitation as they prepared for the waterspout to cross their path.

Under the rear deck, the remaining gathered crew were ordered to board the starboard lifeboat by Victor, the senior Engineer. They had waited the allotted time and Victor had made the attempt to contact the bridge with no success. He figured with Provov at the helm, there was a whole other storm brewing up there and now and it was every man for himself.

The wind suddenly surged around them, pulling up sea water as it battered the lifeboat and blew into it's still open entry hatch. They all huddled to take cover and struggled to close the hatch against the wind. A loud metal screech pierced through the other noise. Victor caught a shadow from above and instinctively ducked as the helicopter toppled past the lifeboat opening and crashed into the heaving sea below.

At the same time the Americans had made it back through the rabbit warren that made the halls and corridors. Just as they locked the bulkhead door behind them and secured it with a pipe to jam it, the ship tipped down nose first on a massive wave and the wind made an almighty roar outside. They found themselves at an observation pod overlooking the deck outside where they could hold onto a structural rail as they passed through the mighty whirlwind. They rode the surfing leviathan as their weight was momentarily lightened on their feet.

Rocking to starboard and watching the scene before them, it was like a train wreck that they couldn't look away from. The heavy straps that tied the big helicopter down, pinged off one by one and the aircraft slid across the deck, crashing through the safety rails and toppling over the edge as the ship passed through the mighty whirlwind.

"Well," Saint John mumbled, "that's one less thing to worry about." He said glancing at the others as the ship was pushed parallel to the waves and rolled dangerously.

Caitlin stared at the tall man in disbelief, she didn't really think ahead this far with these conditions. She assumed that they might try and get off the ship on a lifeboat. Trying to take off now would be impossible, the loss of the other chopper was proof enough of that.

Saint John gave her a sly smile, "Why Cait, you didn't think I was intending to let them keep The Lady now did you?"

"Nope. No no, no, no, no, no, no." Le shook his head as he started to stress as they felt the ship rise up another massive wave.

"Do you have a better idea son?" he asked raising an eyebrow at the younger man.

"Wait. You're serious?" Caitlin asked.

"As a heart attack," Saint John replied with only a hint of mirth. He really wasn't sure how that was going to happen with Airwolf not being able to stick to the deck unless she was tied down – that would clearly defeat the purpose to get off it in the first place. He glanced at the beautiful chopper as she bounced on her undercarriage struggling against the tie downs, "but for now, we need to locate some safety gear, just in case we end up in the drink."

Le's stomach reeled at the thought and below the rear deck and away from their line of sight, Victor had released the lifeboat from the mothership, plunging down into the heaving seas below.

From their perch, high up in the bridge, the remaining men and crew watched helplessly as they struggled through the tornado. The powerful wind pushed the nose to starboard and they broadsided the oncoming waves. The ship listed dangerously as a wave face tipped the ship over on her side. The Chief Officer fought to turn her back into the facing waves, but he feared it would be a losing battle. She was swamped the entire bow and gun turret disappearing beneath the water.

Surging back upward like a giant cork the water flowed off the rounded bow to face the next onslaught.

Luckily, they were exiting the East Siberian Sea and the radar was showing landfall not even twenty nautical miles for their present position. With a little sweet talk the Chief Officer managed to convince Provov that it was a good idea to try and reach the leeward side of the most westerly island of the Lyakhovsky group for some relief rather than try to outrun the weather that was chasing them on half power.

Two more hours of riding roughshod, didn't help the struggling vessel on its remaining two engines which, without the engineers present, were not able to be looked after. The Chief Officer had no choice but to keep them going at maximum capacity and they limped along. All the remaining crew had their hearts in their mouths as they watched the bow submerge over and over again, breaching like a whale.

Under the Bridge, the guests had been glued to the observation area for nothing else much better to do or safer to be. The Lady's radar was useless inside the steel surrounds, so they had no way of knowing where they actually were.

The ship was finally close enough for landfall to be seen through the driving rain. The Chief Officer was well aware that both remaining engines were running at a dangerously high temperatures for some time in the vain effort to reach the quieter waters. Without the ability to shut the engines down from the Bridge, their temperature soon reached critical mass and alarms started to sound left right and centre. "We need to cut the engines!" the C.O pulled the throttles right back to idle as his worst nightmare was about to unfold.

There was a shudder through the entire vessel and then a fire alarm and all non-essential power was cut, leaving the bridge in only natural light except for the consol.

The standard automated procedure for a catastrophic failure in the engine room took over, with two auxiliary generators coming on-line and the lights and systems restarted again. Down below the fire doors slide shut and the last remaining engine was shut down, leaving the Icebreaker floundering freely in the ocean.

The Chief Officer deployed the anchors.

The small mercy was that the seas were less angry now, sheltered from the giant swell of the open ocean by the island to the north of them. It wasn't long before they found what they gained with one reprieve, they would lose another. The wind was still strong and they were still being pushed south-east towards the other island. The anchors had caught the muddy sea bottom, but they only managed to slow their approach, not stop it entirely. It was apparent that they'd inevitably run aground and Provov was losing his mind. He might not be able to save the Icebreaker, but he had to save that Helicopter.B

Below, The pitching seemed to become more manageable. The emergency lights within the hangar flickered before the life within the ship seemed to leave it.

"We've stopped," Le observed.

While the seas were far from peaceful and the wind was still howling, the other sounds of the ship were more prominent, the alarms louder somehow, reminding them of the reality that they had been in a world of trouble for some time.

The stern swung around and though the continuing rain, the outline of landfall came into view though the watery haze. Saint John turned to Caitlin and Le. "We've more than stopped. I think it's time to go," he announced.

Le's blood turned to ice as he realised that he would have to face one of his greatest fears.


	10. 9 Trust

9

Trust

Saint John and Caitlin sprang into action, giving Le the job of seeing if he could figure a way to disarm the large hangar doors before he started overthinking what was to come . Confident that the motion of the ocean wasn't going to unstick The Lady from the deck, they undid the tie down straps and chocked the bird's wheels before checking her over. Saint John collected two more weapons they'd hidden in rear compartment and checked their status. Saint John handed one to Le, who wasn't particularly proficient in firearms, but tucked the piece into the waistband of his pants anyway.

The two veteran pilots quickly ran through a few take off scenarios and once satisfied, they gave one another a meaningful look before turning their gaze to the man who was now in his element among all the technology. The same thing happened to cross their mind.

Caitlin leaned into Saint John, "How are we going to get him on board?" she said quietly under her breath.

Saint John tipped his head, "He might well surprise you Cait." He said and then turned to face her again and placed a warm hand on her arm. "Do you trust me?"

Looking Saint John in the eyes, a moment passed before she spoke, "we've come this far," she replied, before turning to watch Le again. "But it's not me you need to convince," she said, not really answering his question.

Saint John understood where Caitlin was coming from, they'd been thrown into this with no time to build any real trust. They both had the same thing to lose if try didn't though. They really had no choice.

Le had overridden the alarm to the hangar doors, which meant that they could slide them open manually but they would have to jam them open to stop them freewheeling in the still substantial swell.

While he was rooting around in the substantial circuit panel, he also managed to isolate the CCTV for good measure.

"Good job," Caitlin said, with a warm smile as she handed him a flight suit. "Here, put this on," she urged, not reminding him it would help with restricting his blood flow in the extreme G-Forces that they might encounter.

Le felt a jab of anxiety as he complied and yet another as he was asked to help push Airwolf out of the hangar.

Once in the open air, Saint John and Caitlin waited for only a moment before watching their boy start to tune out.

Le felt it crawling under his skin, he started backing away from the sleek machine. His mind whirled, holding his hands to his head as the unwanted memories flooding back and compounded his fright of flight. His thoughts went back to the time when he saw those two small biplanes each exploding into balls of flames that spread along the runway at the air show. Then going back further, he was being bundled into a souped up Huey chopper when Mr Kincaid had snatched him on the way to school one morning. This was not the first time he'd been used as a bargaining tool for Airwolf.

If the frightening ride wasn't enough, Kincaid was cruel enough to frankly admit that he'd killed Le's stepmother Ming, by having her thrown out of the helicopter while they were still airborne.

Le didn't know how he got to Russia because he'd been drugged and by the time he woke up, he was already on the ship and ever thankful for that small mercy.

A kid. A man - doesn't just get over those things and here Le was. Reliving it.

History repeating itself and the Hawke family curse threatening to rear its head yet again.

On the bridge, the attention had been completely focussed on where they had been going but now that they were floundering, the crew's main priority was to check on their drift by focusing to the rear of the vessel instead. From the protruding bridge wings, it took a moment to sink in that he flight deck was empty and that it shouldn't have been. The area was void of the KA-27, with only the remnants of fluttering strapping and broken chains strewn where the helicopter was once secured. To one side of the ship, the safety railing had been completely destroyed, marking where it had careened off the deck and ditched into the ocean.

Provov shrugged. "A small price to pay," he mused, thinking the bird had likely been ruined with salt spray in any case. His carefree attitude towards one expensive helicopter was quickly replaced with worry for the other, far more priceless acquisition. His eye caught the small cluster of monitors to the side of the bridge console. Swearing under his breath, he noted that none of the ships cameras were working. "You three check on the Airwolf," he barked at his men, hoping the machine hadn't met a similar fate by being flung around the store. "And make sure there's not a scratch on it!"

Once the Lady was rolled onto the flight deck, no-one had any time to pause. Le was still in a daze but as soon as the chocks had been applied to the main gear and Caitlin detached the steering arm from The Lady's nose wheel, a banging sound could be heard coming from inside the hanger as Provov's men were trying to smash their way in from the corridor.

"Shoot, We have company. Quick! Get in now!" Saint John yelled through the wind and rain. He opened the co-pilot's door to the chopper and encouraged Caitlin to board. He hoped that the urgency would prompt Le to also spring into action.

Caitlin shot past Saint John and climbed into the rear of the copper. She sat down and could only watch the boys for a moment. Le had backed off the helicopter some more.

His mom continued to observe the tell tail signs of his panic setting in. "Le!" she called out desperately, trying to get his attention.

Saint John swore and rushed around the front of The Lady to assist him.

The seas were still heavy enough to cause The Lady to dip on her suspension, her momentum was checked against the chocs and thinking ahead, Caitlin clambered back to the front and sat herself in the co-pilot's seat. Putting her feet on the brakes, she initiated start sequence as quickly as her fingers could find the buttons. A wave of relief washed over her as she heard the familiar sound of the turbines igniting and then again when the blades started their first revolution. Now they just needed everyone aboard.

Provov's men had given up on beating the hanger access hatch and instead found their way to the one that led to the flight deck. As they burst through, they hesitated and were surprised by the scene in front of them before opening fire.

Saint John, who had been trying franticly to persuade the reluctant Le to get to the chopper, drew the gun from it's holster and returned fire. "Cait!" he called as a bullet hit and dropped one of the men to the ground. "Cover me," he directed, and in a jiffy, she was already onto it. From the bullet proof cover of The Lady's fuselage, Caitlin fired through the gap made by the door at the two remaining men. The combined effort scattered their assailants to find cover. One scooted back to the door from where they arrived and the other hid behind one of the opened hangar doors.

Le had frozen and Saint John had no choice but to man handle him.

That triggered an interesting series of events. Le lashed out with reflexive instinct, landing a blow to Saint John's leg with his foot. The martial arts training that he'd done as a kid had kicked in and he had unwittingly dropped the older man to his knees.

Saint John was momentarily stunned more than anything, the impact with the ground was more painful to his aged knees then the actual kick. In addition, he'd discovered that his boy was not as passive as he had first assumed. But Saint John had no time to puff his chest out and be proud of his son, because they both needed get to the protective cover of The Lady ASAP.

Registering what he'd done, Le was horrified and snapped out of it.

Not since he was a child had he exercised any form of violence, then again he also hadn't felt quite as threatened until this moment either.

Not wasting any time, he reached out to his father and Saint John was quick to take his hand. Le helped the older man hobble to The Lady as bullets whistled past them from both directions and with Saint John turning once or twice to return fire of his own.

They reached the co-pilots door of the helicopter. It offered them a modicum of protection. Caitlin scrambled back into the rear as Le helped his father get in. Saint John gingerly climbed over the console into the pilot's seat. The ship pitched again, causing The Lady to rock. St John stabbed at the brakes, the pain in his knees stabbing back at him but he couldn't think of that right now. He slipped his helmet on and scanned his eye over the instruments on the dash.

On the bridge, Provov had been pacing in his agitation as he waited or word from his men.

"Sir?" One of the crew tentatively craned his neck from the portside bridge wing.

Provov glared silently. After an impatient pause, he finally he barked out a "What!?"

The crewman flinched, "That black helicopter is on the flight deck."

"What!?" Provov roared again, taking action and shoving past the other man to see for himself. He growled and with determination to stop his future from slipping through his fingers, he ordered, "Get them!"

Caitlin noticed Le warring with himself, a shot fired from behind him, pinging off the framework just near his head with a spark. "C'mon Le!" his mother called urgently.

She scooted forward. Le spooked and reeled backward, stopping to grab for the open door to stay upright, sparks continued to fly off The Lady and the steel deck on which she stood. It was a miracle that he hadn't been struck yet, which just showed how rough the conditions still were, the men finding it near on impossible to secure their position enough to get an accurate aim. Le quickly came in close again, but his fear was stopping him from moving any further.

Caitlin pushed the back of the co-pilot's seat down and kneeled on top of it to get in close to him while attempting to draw her son to look her in the eye. Inching forward she reached out and gently touched his cheek. Le's eyes flicked to hers. "Le, we're not leaving without you." She said to him tearfully and with conviction.

The younger man shut his eyes tight, trying to banish the images and opened them again to gauge the truth of his adoptive mother's words. Finding absolute certainty there, he then glanced at his father for the same thing.

The older man nodded, "Don't let us miss out on another minute, of another hour, of another day, son." He said with complete candour, sitting ready at the controls to take off at the next most opportune moment.

Back at Santini Air, the swift development of the severe storm worried everybody greatly. They needed rest and had decided to head to Jo's place to do that more comfortably then they could at the airport. All they could do now was to wait on word from Archangel's intel or directly from Airwolf.

Almost as soon as their rears eased into Jo's comfortable lounge, Archangel's cell rang. Everyone automatically sat to attention and strained to hear the conversation.

"Yeah?" Michael asked rubbing his eye and under his patch wearily. Following that, there were a few uh-huh's and other such noises.

"What have we got on it?... I see... and NORAD?...Ok, Yeah, Thank you." before he hung up and dropped back into his seat giving a defeated looking sigh.

The others looked on in anticipation.

"The COPAS-SARSAT com has detected an EPIRB near the Lyakhovsky Islands in the Laptev Sea," Michael said gravely.

"They've gone under?" Nash asked, "Are we sending a search party?"

"We don't know. And not a chance." Michael answered and with a brief shake of his head.

"What? Why not?" Jo asked, sitting forward again appalled by Michael's words. Branson who was seated next to her on her overstuffed couch, took her arm gently to ease her, so they could hear more of what Archangel had to say.

"The Russians have already deployed SAR to the area, we'll be too late getting there and even if we did send something, we'll likely cause more harm than good."

"Is there anything we _can_ do?" Branson asked quietly.

"No, we can only wait at this stage. The NORAD satellite isn't due to pass the area for another hour and saw the boat still afloat the last time it flew over." He said, relaying the information he'd heard. "Two days ago the USS Carl Vinson completed maintenance at Puget Sound and was sent out to the into North Pacific to conduct exercises. She's been ordered to sail further north in case she's needed. That's all we can do at this stage."

"That's not good enough," Jo said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, knowing she may be overreacting, but she was too tired to care. "That's our family out there!"

Archangel nodded and zipped his lip. He'd just been told that if there was any recovery to be done, it would be for the helicopter and any bodies they found would be a bonus. It didn't sit well with him and thankfully, it hadn't come to that yet. Instead, he remained hopeful and chose his words carefully, "We don't even know if that ship went down. Let's just see what happens."

On deck, Le looked between Caitlin and his newfound father. Both their faces implored him to take the last step and join them. Intellectually he knew it was safer on board Airwolf than anywhere else he could be in that moment, but emotionally and physically, his body was betraying him. His heart raced, his mind was in a haze, he was shaking as his anxiety went through the roof and his teeth were chattering from the cold. But still he couldn't move, even though he was still being drenched by the freezing weather and getting shot at repeatedly.

Through the fog, he felt his mother's second hand on his other cheek, "Please Le, we have to go," she said, begging her son with tears in her eyes. A second later, he watched her head snap to the side and her eyes grow large.

"Le!" she grabbed his jacket collar and hauled on him.

His gaze followed hers just as the sound of automatic gunfire resinated around him. Provov and more of his men had found them and were now firing indiscriminately. At that moment one fear overrode the another and it was just the thing he needed to snap him into action. He nodded, shooing his mother off the back of the seat and in a fairly coordinated action, the seat was flipped back up and Le climbed in to settle himself before locking the door shut behind him, just as a hail of bullets hit side of the chopper.

Saint John, who had been reading the swell while Le had been contemplating, decided that the rough weather was a blessing in disguise. It would enable him to better time his departure as the ship crested on a wave, the extra distance between the two craft as the deck fell away would give them the extra wiggle room they needed to contend with the less than ideal and ferocious tailwind the storm was still delivering.

The continued clattering of bullets ricocheted off the side as the ship neared the top of a swell. Saint John eased the Lady off the deck and back into her rightful place.

In the co-pilot's seat, Le had managed to strap himself into the harness, and with Caitlin's help, he slipped on his helmet. A moment later, he sat white knuckled with his eyes shut as they pulled away from the still drifting Icebreaker.

Watching the chopper rise from the stern, Propov let out and angry roar and a burst of ammunition into the air. He looked at the other men with disgust. In his mind, everybody was useless and under his breath, he admitted, "Never get someone to do a job you should do yourself." He radioed the bridge, "get the gun ready! he ordered, then mumbling to himself again, "if I can't have The Airwolf, no one can."

Not waiting any longer, Provov rushed below deck to the DTC under the Ship's gun and Airwolf swung around in the South Easterly direction.

"Shoot," Caitlin said watching her monitors, "I knew this wasn't going to be an easy getaway!" she said, as a succession of rapid fire 75mm shells were released by the Icebreaker.

"Give me turbo's!" Saint John instructed as he banked The Lady to the right and across the sightline of the aggressor. The chopper surged forward, her rotors disengaging. The shells fanned out behind them as the ships gun rotated slightly behind Airwolf's accelerated movement.

Detecting a radio tracker, Caitlin called out, "They're locked on!" as she worked at jamming the frequency via Airwolf's integrated computer.

"Combat Mode!" he ordered.

Caitlin appointed the ADF pod and chain guns. "Engaged." She said, confirming the action just as the jamming indicator sounded in the nick of time. Three darts passing by closely at Mach 6.

With the jammer on, the ship could only fire by human eye. Saint John pulled Airwolf up sharply and made a hammer head turn, doubling back toward the ship.

Lowering his visor, it was game on, he locked into the barrel of the gun and held down the chain gun trigger to destroy any rapid fire shells that were aimed at them and make way for one of Airwolf's missiles.

It was like playing Russian roulette. He was counting on Airwolf's chain gun ammunition to last long enough against the Icebreaker's constant barrage of shells. Long enough to last until he was close enough to let a Copperhead go without it being destroyed on its approach to the target.

"Hold it, hold it!"He chanted to himself as they hurtled toward the ship. Sparks and puffs of smoke led the way as shell after shell was hit by the smaller calibre bullets firing from both sides of The Lady. Flipping the cover on the missile trigger he pressed down without hesitation, releasing it on a slightly different trajectory to the Icebreaker's line of fire.

He pulled up Airwolf's nose and flew out of the target zone, leaving behind a massive blast that engulfed the entire fore and top decks of the ship.

A sharp ping was heard from what could have been from some errant shrapnel.

"Did you hear that?" Caitlin asked, in a concerned voice before scanning her station.

"Yeah" Saint John answered uneasily as he ran an eye over the dash. Not finding anything untoward with Airwolf's behaviour, he was satisfied that the sound was of no consequence. Glancing to his side to check on how his boy was doing, Le was sitting stock still and looked like he was enduring his worst nightmare. Reaching out and patting his shoulder, "You got this Le," he said, encouraging him. Le didn't budge apart from blinking in acknowledgment.

The warm fuzzy feelings were cut short with another incoming warning alarm. Caitlin watched Airwolf's ID scanner as scrolled through her ancient list of aircraft, highlighting one with an incomplete information directive. "Two on our tail, at four miles and closing, no match, closest variant MiG-29."

"Ah great," Saint John said, complaining sarcastically, before taking a breath. It was times like this, he wished Russia was still operating from behind the Iron Curtin.

Before Saint John could make a decision to get out of dodge, Caitlin announced two heatseeking missiles heading their way.

Saint John ordered Turbo's and Sunburst in succession, which Caitlin promptly applied. With the despatch of the two flares, the missiles locked onto their new hotter, brighter targets and proceeded to follow on harmlessly out of the way until detonation. Saint John peeled off and slowed to allow the MiG's to catch up and stay within Airwolf's sight. There was no way she could match their in line speed, so they'd have stick around and fight it out.

Once within combat distance, Saint John opened up the throttles and hit Mach 1, increasing their speed to more match the two jets. The MiG's didn't stay in formation, but scattered, splitting themselves up in two different directions and making it twice as difficult to keep track of them.

"Cait, keep your eyes peeled," he said making sure she was keeping track of her blips as they streaked after one of the jets. The other would be on their own tail in no time, so he'd have to make the best out of the limited time he had.

"Got one at two four zero," Caitlin said, watching the second MiG come in hot behind them.

Deploying a Hellfire at the jet in front of them, it was a near miss with the aircraft banking just in time and the missile plunging into the ocean before it could recover to get another lock.

Clenching his jaw, Saint John tracked the plane towards the largest island. "Air to air incoming," Cait announced.

"Sunburst," Hawke called out, Caitlin immediately following his instruction and using the helicopter's manoeuvrability, he reefed The Lady out of the way and the missile exploded on the flare, leaving both jets to dart away.

Once over land, Saint John took Airwolf down low... This was where The Lady could wash off speed without danger of losing lift -unlike the two MiGs - and then use the landscape for some cover to his advantage.

For some time the dogfight continued. All three aircraft ducked and weaved over the island, made all the more difficult with the strong winds. Fire was exchanged and targets were missed.

On the tail of one of the MiG's, Hawke saw his opportunity and realised a missile, forcing a left banking turn near the base of one of only two mountains on an otherwise dead flat wasteland. The jet lost its grip on the air, rolled left and pitched nose down in an aerodynamic stall. There was no coming back from that at low altitude, it hit the ground and erupted into a huge ball of fire. With Saint John somewhat relieved, he flew through the edge of the black smoke plume, the vortices rolling off Airwolf's wake as they passed through and focused on their next objective.

"One down, one to go," Caitlin wasn't relaxing her vigilance, her adrenaline was keeping her absolutely focused on the bank of instruments and monitors that surrounded her.

Back out on the flat, the remaining jet was giving chase and let loose a fusillade of machine gun fire that pinged off the side of The Lady.

With turbo's engaged, they raced over the ground and back out to sea. The ground effect of both low flying aircraft, stirred up a wake over the short stretch of flat water that was sheltered by the landmass downwind from the prevailing storm.

Further out, Saint John blasted Airwolf upward with the MiG right behind her and now, with the battle being one on one, he could fly like a bat out of hell using her manoeuvrability over the jet's in line speed to stay one step ahead. The MiG was unable to get a fix on her and wasted many thirty millimetre rounds and most of the twelve missiles it carried underwing.

Pitching her nose down Saint John ordered, "Give me all, she's got!"

"Hawke, she's not as young as she used to be!" Caitlin argued, but none the less followed the directive.

"Neither are we Cait and yet here we are," he said as they hurtled back towards the earth, "let's put some glide into that slide."

"Some what?" Caitlin asked, not at all happy with what that sounded like.

"Reverse thrust and count down our speed!" Saint John directed.

Caitlin's heart raced and she braced for the rapid deceleration, counting it out until they got to three hundred knots as they hurtled closer to Earth.

"Engage rotors!" he directed as the MiG overshot them at a rapid rate.

Taking full advantage of the move, he pressed the missile button and watched it rocket toward the jet and blowing it out of the sky.

Further slowing down to a hover, Airwolf placated to her trilling hum, Saint John watched the fiery fragments tumble down into the sea and smoke rise close to the water as it was pushed along by the strong wind. He let out a breath that he didn't even realise he was holding and was interrupted by Caitlin calling out Le's name.

Glancing to his left, his brave and beautiful flight engineer had unbuckled and was reaching between the seats, shaking their son by the arm.

Le had passed out. Saint John wasn't sure if it was because of his fear or the G-forces that hadn't been trained to withstand, but after a minute, the younger man roused.

Looking around in a daze Le asked, "did we make it? What did I miss?"

"Yeah son, we made it and you didn't miss a thing," Caitlin said, chuckling lightly and glowing in relief. Glancing at Saint John, her smile was infectious. Relieved that Le appeared more relaxed now, Caitlin hugged him warmly from behind.

Saint John reached to pat Le fondly on the arm. "Let's go home."

With that, Saint John set his heading to one two zero and asked Caitlin for turbo's.


	11. 10 Not What You Know

**10**

**Not What You Know.**

Nash was playing barista again. The coffee had been flowing freely for he and Michael. Jo dozed under Branson's arm, who in turn was enjoying holding her close as he sipped his cup of tea, quietly contemplating what his part in all this would be with or without the return of the helicopter and its crew. There was one thing for certain, he wanted to be part of Jo's life regardless. He snuck an affectionate look at her sleeping face resting upon his chest and his heart skipped a beat.

Michael had been fighting his slowly blinking eye from permanently closing. It had been years since he had sacrificed this much sleep as an operative and it was obvious that he was getting too old for this. It had been about thirty six hours since they the last time they had contact with Saint John and Caitlin and none of them had any proper sleep since. He yawned again and quietly nodded his thanks when another strong, black brew was placed in front of him on the coffee table.

Nash sat in the recliner feeling jittery from way too much caffeine, but he didn't want to miss a thing, so even though one foot couldn't stop moving, he otherwise sat fairly still.

The large wooden heirloom clock could be heard ticking from the hallway in the silence as the minutes continued to pass. Michael's phone pinged, startling everyone in the room and rousing Jo, who blushed at the position she found herself in but was none the less thrilled by the feel of Branson's arm wrapped around her.

Michael received an email with a picture from the latest NORAD photo of the area where the EPIRB had been originally detected. "Can we get this on a larger screen?" he asked.

A few minutes later all four were studying the blown up photo on Jo's wall mounted wide screen.

Through the thick cloud of the storm, the satellite technology was still able to pick up the image of a lifeboat had been marked on the picture. But other than that, there wasn't much to conclude from it other than a lifeboat had been deployed from a stricken vessel. A vessel that was likely the Icebreaker as there weren't any others reported to be in the area.

Where was the icebreaker? Who was on the life-boat? Where was Airwolf? Were all the questions that were bandied about.

Michael's phone rang. "Hold those thoughts," he said raising a finger as he answered his cell "Yeah? ... of course!...send it through, in fact send though everything you have within a hundred miles west of the original alert... Thanks. Bye."

A few minutes later, Archangel's cell pinged again, looking over the rim of his glasses he said, "Let's hope this gives us a bit more," as raising the device and giving it a little shake.

Minutes later on the large screen, they observed the thick black smoke plume that bellowed towards the southwest. and coming from a vessel that was likely the Icebreaker.

Zooming in on the image for a closer look, "it looks anchored," Nash pointed to the two thin lines attached to the front of the ship. The rear of the ship was the only part that was visible from above. The rest was shrouded by smoke and clearly beyond salvaging in the remote region.

"Well. I guess that could suggest things are either really, really bad or really, really good," Nash said, squinting at the screen.

"It suggests that the ship wasn't abandoned when that lifeboat was deployed." Branson pointed out.

"True that." Nash agreed.

"Do you think Hawke and Cait found Le and escaped?" Branson asked.

Jo shook her head, "If they escaped, it would have been with Airwolf."

"Maybe, or they could have been in the lifeboat," Nash said, hoping that the three hadn't escaped the fire only to fall into a proverbial oven.

"Maybe," Michael rubbed his thumb and forefinger down his moustache like he often did when in deep thought. His cell received another email.

There were more smoke plumes visible near the area. One, not far South East of the vessel, spread over quite some distance and looked like an oil slick alight. The other was more localised and on land at the base of a mountain.

"Yes!" Jo jumped for joy and everybody looked at her strangely for her outburst.

"Oh c'mon! There's no other explanation is there? That's the Lady's handywork for sure!"

"Don't count your chickens Jo, maybe Airwolf did get off that ship, but something clearly went down and we have no idea what. One of those wrecks could be her!" Michael said gravely, just as the hand held radio crackled from its position on the coffee table

They all eyed the suspiciously.

"Santini Air, Santini Air, this is Beautiful Lady." Saint John's voice came over the radio. "Mission accomplished, we're coming home."

In her excitement, Jo launched forward and snatched it up, "Hawke! _We_ knew you'd make it!"

With that, the entire room cheered and joined in Jo's celebratory excitement.

Satisfied that everyone who needed to know did, for Saint John, Caitlin and Le, it would be a long and boring flight back across the barren landscape that was Eastern Russia. But boring for now was almost welcome after the close calls they'd all had in the last few days. With Airwolf on auto pilot, they rested, keen to get back as soon as they could and were only one mid-air refuel away from the home run.

Traveling at Mach 1.4, Airwolf shuddered momentarily as she streaked through the sky before her flight smoothed out again.

Both pilots checked their systems, with nothing showing anything was amiss. "Must've been some bad air," Saint John said not completely convinced as they approached the Bering Sea.

"I have increased skin temperature," Caitlin announced as a warning beacon sounded in from Caitlin's console. "Stealth mode compromised." She added to the list of issues a second later.

With another shudder and the Turbo's automatically shut down and Caitlin received a rotor directive.

Engaging rotors as they slowed through 300 knots, Caitlin read out another warning, "Radar suppression is falling. Hawke what's going on?" she asked him.

"I don't know," Saint John said in a worried tone, just as the autopilot automatically handed Airwolf back to him. He systematically ran though his checks and found that turbos were disabled as was the radar suppression system.

Le felt queasy at the thoughts that ran through his mind, "W- what's going on?" he stuttered almost too afraid to find out.

"The bad news is I don't know son," Saint John answered truthfully, noting that Airwolf's usual sounds had also changed, "But, the good news is that we're flying in a really nice helicopter and it's gonna take a little longer to get home."

"Is it serious?"

"Well that depends on how much you need the bathroom." Saint John joked, lightening the mood but remaining vigilant.

"I think we should let the others know we're going to be late," Caitlin said, always the voice of responsibility.

"Yeah, you're right," Saint John said, agreeing and radioing Santini without any further delay.

Archangel had left Jo's place and the others had all gone to sleep, with Branson bunking in the second spare bedroom. Nash had opted to take the Radio to the bedroom he normally used while in town and he'd managed to just fall asleep when he received the call from Airwolf.

Bleary eyed, Jo and Branson joined Nash and slouched on the lounge listening to the latest development.

It wasn't long before Michael joined in the conversation on speaker phone and they tried to nut through what might have happened.

"We've got a couple of systems down and they've produced an automated response by leaving the turbo's unresponsive. So we'll need to figure out how they're related and if they'll effect any other systems. I'd rather not find those things out on the fly." Saint John explained.

"What's your range Hawke?" Michael asked

"We'll need an Air to Air sooner rather than later, you know how efficient these helicopters are." Saint John said sarcastically. "But we have around two hours of fuel left at three hundred knots."

"OK," Michael said, sighing and not sounding at all impressed. "Leave it with me." He hung up abruptly.

"Well, he's pissed," Nash said, stating the obvious.

"Maybe he's not a morning person," Branson said dryly with a yawn, "Can't blame him I guess," he added offhandedly and checked his wristwatch.

"Saint John, Where will two hours get you, are you near land?" Nash asked just as Branson's cell rang.

"Michael," Brandon answered, putting the device on speaker again.

"Based on what you've given us, you can make it to The Carl Vinson, but you'll have to change course to two four zero and they can close in on your heading to meet you."

"Nice try Archangel," Saint John called him out.

"What?" Michael asked, "do you want somewhere to land and refuel or not? Do not be so obtuse, Hawke." Michael said in frustration. He wasn't in the mood for this because ultimately, it would be him who'd have to try to convince the Director if Saint John wanted to challenge the plan.

He dreaded the thought. It was difficult enough when he was Deputy under the the FIRM's main man Zeus, so he knew he'd be pushing it to the limit with Georgia this time around. The Chief at the Bureau was ruthless.

The others glanced at one another as the conversation heated.

"There's no way we're going to park this helicopter on that US military wolf trap." Saint John said dismissing the offer.

"Hawke!" Michael said, growling his agitation through gritted teeth. He asked himself again why these people sometimes made things so difficult for themselves and then as a consequence, for him too.

"I can get to St Paul." Saint John said, ignoring Archangels vexation.

There was a momentary silence on the line while Archangel checked the destination. "St Paul airport is shut."

"Yeah, we know, it's under fog. But _you_ also know we can use Infrared to land." Saint John said, placing Archangel on the back foot.

There was a tenuous silence and strained glances between the three people in Jo's living room as they held their breath for what came next.

Archangel took a long breath through his nose as he pinched the top of it. "Why is it you Hawke brothers are always trying to put me between a rock and a hard place? You can't keep using Airwolf to get what you want and _you_ can't keep threatening to fly her into the drink every time you take her! Illegally I might add."

"Firstly. You're just lucky I guess. Secondly. I'm not threatening to fly her _into the drink_ as you put it, I have somewhere to land. It just won't be on that ship. And thirdly, I promise on Strings grave, that none of us will take Airwolf for any joyrides just to satisfy our own needs." Saint John said this while thinking of crossing his fingers behind his back.

"Why doesn't your promise alleviate any of my concerns?" Michael asked, knowing full well Saint John's assurance was open to interpretation.

To which Saint John countered. "I don't know Michael, perhaps because that sort of thing works both ways."

Michael drew another long breath and let it out through puffed cheeks, "Alright, alright, I'll get the fuel sorted on St Paul."

"And?" Saint John pressed.

"And what?" Archangel asked bitingly.

"An Air to Air between St Paul and Cali. We only have about 7 hours endurance on the rotor, Michael. Or, we could pick our way overland along the way, which will take far longer," Saint John said, offering the two most desirable options.

"Of course if we take option two," Saint John said teasingly, "you might want to issue us with a callsign and a model type, but that might also leave us exposed to the public and all those cell phone cameras."

That caused an audible snort from Nash. Jo was also grinning at the pestering torment that Saint John was subjecting Archangel to.

Nash couldn't help himself, "You know Michael, if you squint, you could just about believe The Lady was a triple deuce." He said adding to the repartee.

"Sounds legit," Jo said, sounding very millennial.

"And, she is only flying marginally better than one at the moment," Caitlin said, not wanting to miss being a part of getting one up on Archangel.

And despite the seriousness of the situation and the real question of The Lady's airworthiness, they burst into laughter.

Even the corners of Michael's lips twitched, he was just thankful that no one could see it. There was something certainly nostalgic and heart-warming about the way the Santini's and Hawke's played together. Even if it felt like torture to him sometimes.

A similar thought also passed Branson's mind. He didn't know whether it was the Santini-Hawke family dynamic, or maybe an aviation family thing. Either way, they put their family first. Every time. He glanced fondly at Jo and then at Nash, wondering how the man would feel if...

_No,_ he shook his head at himself. The most important thing for now was to get everyone home in one piece.

"So?" Branson said, putting in his two cents worth, "By air or by land? What takes your fancy Michael?" He pressed.

"What I'd fancy is knowing that our helicopter and the people inside it were safe on one of our ships. What if Airwolf has more malfunctions?" Michael asked, making a valid point.

Michael's words caused an idea to pop into Branson's head and then a small grin formed on his lips. He'd have to keep quiet about that for the moment, because he had to contact a few of his acquaintances to get a few of his ducks in a line.

"Yeah, well that can happen even if she's is firing on all cylinders, Michael." Saint John's voice came in over the radio and not instilling any assurance in Michael's mind whatsoever.

Michael gave an agitated growl, "I'll have a talk to the Director, but..."

"Thanks Mike, much appreciated." Saint John said, taking some joy in the torment he knew he was causing the man.

"But! While I do some sweet talking, you make sure you tell us the moment you're in any trouble, we'll have SAR at the ready." Michael said in genuine concern.

To which Saint John replied, "Awe, you're all heart Michael." Sometimes he really wondered if Archangel genuinely cared. Surely, he wouldn't jump through so many hoops if he didn't? On the other hand, it might also show that Airwolf could have been the ultimate prize that was worth waiting for.

After ending the call, Michael collapsed back onto his couch in a heap. It was always an_ interesting_ ride when Airwolf was in the picture. He shook his head at himself, it wasn't the first time that he thought it was like reliving that era, three decades ago all over again.

It had been hard enough to keep Zeus from storming in and throwing Stringfellow and Dominic into the big house back in the day. It took a lot of talk to convince him that the chopper was of more use to The FIRM with them, then it was if left to rot in its hidden desert tomb. Because those two would never have divulged its whereabouts and both options were safer at the time then having the machine replicated.

In the wrong hands, there was only one thing more dangerous than one Airwolf Helicopter... More Airwolf Helicopters.

He figured none of that had changed this time around either.

What had changed was his boss, if he thought that Zeus was hard work, he had nothing on Director Georgia Hammond. She was a ballbreaker and had already made it clear that she wasn't too impressed with proceedings.

"Welcome to my world," he said out loud, as he dialled her direct line for yet another concession.

"Michael, I hope you have some good news for me." Georgia said in a warning tone.

_Might as well come straight out with it. _Michael thought to himself. "They refuse to land her on the Carl Vinson," he said, bracing for the onslaught.

"What do you mean, _they refuse_. Is this how it's going to be? Are these people going to eternally keep that helicopter hostage? I swear Michael, that the moment they set foot on U.S soil, I'll..." The Director stopped herself and sighed, knowing that ranting wasn't going to get their war machine back onto American soil any sooner. "Anyway, let me guess, they're going to fly it along in limp mode till it can't fly anymore?"

"Affirmative." Michael admitted.

"And we don't have a choice, do we?"

"Short of literally plucking it out of the air and forcibly placing it down on the deck. No."

"I could just send up a squadren of jets from the Carl Vinson and be done with it." The Director said, only half joking. "But we both know she's worth more alive than dead," she continued

"Oh really, you know? What do you know? Do you know the same things that the Russians know? Tell me Georgia, did you find something on what was in the safety deposit box?"

"No, but we did manage to sift through a heap of rubbish that has linked Provov to the Russian Military Chief, Commander Sergei Surov in transcripts taken from various conversations we've infiltrated.

"Oh? And what were they talking about?" Michael sat upright and to attention.

"Active Protection Systems, something we're only just getting a handle on" The Director answered easily.

It wasn't the first time that Archangel had heard about ground based vehicles being equipped with futuristic incoming weapons countermeasures, but he failed to see the correlation with Airwolf, "Ok, I'll bite, what does this have to do with getting the Helicopter back?" He asked.

"Well, we don't know, other than Provov was recorded as saying that what he has in his possession, would make Russia's APS look like it came from the Cold War era." She answered.

"That's it?" Michael asked unimpressed.

"That's all, but it wasn't so much what was said, rather when he said it," Georgia said, building the intrigue.

"Oh?" Michael questioned.

"It was three days after Provov accessed the safety deposit box." Georgia revealed.

"That's great, but how do you know that it has anything to do with Airwolf? We're only assuming, and you know where that gets us." Michael said knowingly, remembering it wasn't just once he'd been a victim where presumption was concerned.

"I don't think we can assume otherwise." Georgia said seriously, "Provov was also the one who managed to get Airwolf to that Russian Icebreaker with Surov's blessing. You do the math."

It was hard to deny the evidence, but for the fact they didn't know what was in that box in the bank. "Well, we can look into that later, but for now we need to implement a controlled, wheels down landing on U.S. Soil and unfortunately, it will have to be on Saint John's terms." Michael said logically.

Michael heard another impatient sigh from the woman on the line, "I can't very well refuse, now can I? What does Mr Hawke want?"

As soon as Michael was off one call, he was onto his next and he relayed the news that Saint John's request was granted and left the group conversation and the others to their devices. He was more than confident they'd look after the rest, because they were the only ones that wanted Airwolf back in one piece more than he and his department did.

He hoped that confidence wouldn't prove a little premature.

The discussion continued at Jo's place "Ok, so once we get Airwolf back here, what then?" Nash asked boldly while Saint John was flanking the conversation via radio.

"We finally give Archangel the key's I guess." Jo said sadly with a shrug. It would be the end of an era for the Hawke and Santini families and the melancholy mood was felt by everyone as it dawned on them while resting and waiting for further word.

On board Airwolf, Saint John was getting fatigued. Caitlin had been resting intermittently and suggested that she and Le swap seats so she could take the stick from the co-pilots seat and give the older Hawke a break until they needed to land at St. Paul Island.

"Don't touch anything." Caitlin said, warning her son as he sat with large eyes scanning the ancient console.

Le couldn't help himself. "Can I have a little look inside The Lady's head?" he asked, his fingers itching to hit her outdated keyboard.

Caitlin looked to her right to gauge Saint John, who'd rested his head on the door and had closed his eyes. They were all exhausted and still had so far to fly. If they were in their normal lives right now, they'd be in so much trouble with the FAA for putting in too many fight hours.

"Nope," she shot over her shoulder at her son.

"Dang it, I'd really like to figure her out before we hand her over." Le grumbled from the back.

"Who says we're handing her over?" Saint John said softly, not moving from his relaxed position and keeping his eyes closed.

Caitlin reeled, The Lady's sensitive controls reacting like she was also shocked with the news. "Did you just say we're...? Hawke, we can't keep her, we'll be arrested or worse! And even if we do, what the heck are we going to do with her?" She asked in alarm.

"I don't know," he continued to speak dozily, "I hadn't thought that far ahead, but aren't you even the tiniest bit curious why the turbos are disabled when the stealth mode became unserviceable?" he said, sitting up again.

"Hell yeah," Le piped up from his spot behind the two pilots, "And I'm even more intrigued that there is a 'stealth mode'. Stealth is usually determined by shape and finish, not by whatever an Airwolf stealth mode is."

This dilemma had gotten Saint John thinking. He was more of a hands on kind of guy and could fix almost anything mechanical. String on the other hand was also amazingly academic and had an uncanny aptitude for seeing how things worked that weren't immediately perceivable. That was why his brother collected a Master's Degree in Physics along the way. That's also why he ended up being such a great test pilot, where instead of just bitching about how something handled like a dog, he could tell them why. It was always String, who explained the intricacies of the behaviour of those forces he couldn't reconcile by himself. If only he were here to figure this out.

But that was a moot point now, String was gone, and whatever was decided, they'd have to make a commitment by the time they were due for the Air to Air.

From that moment, they'd have no choice but to fly into U.S. airspace and when that happened, they'd likely get tailed by radar and they'd have to give up Airwolf and all the extraordinary secrets she still held. Secrets that could very well change the course of America's warfare capabilities.

They flew on, the island was only about thirty miles away now, but the thick cover of low cloud made it impossible to land under normal circumstances unless you could see through it with a thermal imaging system.

Which Airwolf had, even if it was an old but useful version. Being a helicopter also meant that they could take it easy on landing and with a lot more care than in a fixed wing aircraft coming in on a runway at a rate of knots.

As they descended, Saint John slid down his visor and took over the controls staying in radio silence and trusting that the AMRB had organised everything they needed. As they crossed St. Paul's north west coast, the infrared showed that the island didn't have one tree upon its barren landscape as they made their way towards the airport.

Through the haze Caitlin spotted a dim glow that lit the fog cloud. On approach, the light grew brighter until she was able to make out the tall flood light towers that illuminated the apron and the small fuel depot. An amber flasher strobed, showing the location of the fuel truck through the mist as Saint John selected gear down and eased The Lady smoothly onto the tarmac.

Once The Lady's rotors stopped and the three crew members stepped out of the cabin, they stretched and bent the kinks out of their body's while they waited for the refuelling truck to approach. The old refueller didn't make eye contact and tried hard not to look at the helicopter as he went about his Job. One by one the crew made their way to the tiny terminal building for a toilet break and a top up from the vending machine to tie them over for a while.

Airwolf had been filled before the refueler finally spoke, "Not often you see beauties like this in these parts." He said, rolling up the earthing wire, "they sure come a long way since I use'ta fly Snakes, back in Nam," he said, giving away his military history as he watched Le climb easily into the rear of the chopper.

Saint John smiled at the Cobra Pilot, "Slicks, gunships and DUSTOFF," Saint John said countering the familiarity.

"Hm," the other man nodded, before eying Caitlin settling into the co-pilots seat, before she initiated start up. "They sure come a long way." He mumbled again, getting into his truck.

"Thank you, Sir. Have a good afternoon," Saint John said politely to the man of few words, who simply nodded and waved before driving away.

Minutes later they were back in the air and heading back to mainland America at a poultry and very average three hundred knots.

At Jo's house, Branson had found out where the RV Dolphin was located. He knew the mega yacht was conducting a modern day treasure hunt of the SS Constitution, an ocean liner that had sunk 700 nautical miles north west of Hawaii while being towed to China for scrap in 1997.

The Dolphin was a fully equipped research vessel owned by a friend and self-proclaimed modern treasure hunter, Bob McKearnen who he'd met many years ago at a Maritime Museum opening in Greece.

The boat came about when Nine Tenth's was commissioned to retrieve the vessel. Dolphin was formerly owned by a French billionaire. He'd been done for child trafficking and subsequently was thrown in the clink. Some of his major assets were seized, one of them being the RV Dolphin. One of Nine Tenth's skippers seized The Dolphin from its berth in Monaco and Branson had only acquired the business just as the boat was being released for sale.

Luckily Branson new just the man who would love to buy it.

Bob McKearnen had been looking to update what he currently had, and he got it for a song - relatively speaking- and put Branson on his Christmas card list.

Now there she was, looking for the billion dollars-worth of stolen gems that had been hidden in the ballast of the old ocean liner, bobbing around near the West Pacific, almost exactly where she needed to be and just in time to call in a favour.

What were the chances?

It was late afternoon and after a siesta, the group gathered in the open plan kitchen to discuss their dinner options.

"Santini Air, this is Beautiful Lady, do you copy?" saint John's weary voice echoed in the large space.

Nash raced for the radio that was plugged into the island bench to recharge. "Bea-utiful Lady, this is Santini Air. Copy that." He said as a picture of another lovely lady's face crossed his mind for the umpteenth time.

Jo and Branson stopped what they were doing and gathered around the bench.

"Good, there may have been a change of plan." They heard Saint John announce.

"Oh? Sounds like fun, what do you have in mind?" Nash sat forward as his attention was sparked.

"Well, I'm not a hundred percent sure and the problem is I'm running out of flight time to decide." Saint John paused for a moment. "The thing I do know is that there's a fix on us, we've had to pop the breaker on the Lady's radar audio sensor, it's been driving us insane, so I'm definitely not flying her back to the Lair. I think it would be better to bring her back to Van Nuys and hide her in plain sight at Santini."

There was a bit of a silence as everybody thought about what Saint John had just said.

"I don't know," Jo said, shaking her head doubtfully, "Cait, you're ok with that?"

"Well? Not really, but we have very few options," Caitlin said, also sounding dog-tired.

"Gah! not you too? Can't we just hand her back and be done with it?" Jo asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Caitlin felt only a little guilty, admitting to herself that perhaps she was getting herself too involved with the whole thing. The Lady was a terribly addictive drug that always managed to get under one's skin.

"Hear me out. Please." Saintt John requested. "What if we tell anyone who asks that she's a new movie prop for a T.V. action series or something. She has the look for that to be perfectly believable and if Archangel's people want to swoop in to collect her, it'll end up being all over the news in a flash with social media the way it is today and that's the last thing they'll want."

"Yeah but aren't you just cutting your nose off to spite your face?" Jo asked. "They'll know where she is and the bottom line is that eventually, they'll find a way to seize her anyway and we'll all probably end up in jail. I'm not going to allow that, sorry Hawke." Jo said, putting her foot down.

"What if we make her disappear?" Branson asked calmly, cutting through the tension and doing a disappearing into thin air action with his hands.

Jo nudged his side. "Don't you start," she said, with a warning tone and then observed his thoughtful expression while he checked his cell phone again. Jo was getting used to Branson's mannerisms and knew when the cogs were turning. Glancing at his face, she noted those creases that only showed when he was up to something. "What are you scheming Mr Richards?" She asked inquisitively leaning her chin on his shoulder to take a peek.

Turning his head, with noses almost touching, he delighted in Jo's easy air around him now, they had become quite close and after this drama had cleared, he'd be sure to ask her on a date.

Branson grinned at the thought but settled to the task at hand and took a long breath though his nose. "Well." He said turning his focus back to his screen before it alerted him to the email he'd been waiting on. "This," he said, holding the cell up, "might give us some time to fix whatever's wrong with The Lady, and get her feeling more herself again."


	12. 11 Epilogue - Return to the Past

**11**

**Epilogue**

**Return to the Past**

There she stood, bathed in light from above, serine and beautiful. No matter how many times you saw her, she always took your breath away.

The Lady was finally back home in her Lair after more than thirty years and for good this time. Le was busy re-designing her systems with lighter and more modern upgrades and the whole crew planned to roll up their sleeves to do their bit throughout the refit.

It had taken months to study all of her files and blueprints and once he had, Le methodically started to improve every one of her systems. She really was a remarkable bird. If he could reduce her weight by 20%, she could carry five pax with full weapons and fuel. Her turbo jets could also be improved upon, for more efficiency and endurance and maybe even speed.

Le's call to action slave helmet design would improve reaction times and control of Airwolf's new integrated weapons and flight control systems when he finished with it all. She would become state of the art with all the old charm that he'd make sure to preserve in digital format. He didn't want to lose that element that made her The Lady.

There was so much to work on, that it would take at least another year before the first test flight could be made.

And what about that big secret she'd been keeping? The one that had the highest level falling over themselves to acquire?

It truly was the holy grail. The ultimate game changer in both aerospace and military development.

Now Le and the others knew what that was... well he'd have to think on that some more. He didn't believe that could be improved upon, not even with today's technology.

It was genius. Dr Moffett was a genius and they'd have to be very careful with the way forward.

Le would have to brush up on his physics if he wanted to get anywhere near what Moffett made up all that time ago. Luckily, he knew enough to detect what had disabled The Lady's signature stealth mode and top end speed.

To think a little crack in a crystal - likely caused by wear or a perfectly placed small impact, like a bullet or both - was all it took...thankfully it wasn't a stray bullet into the refuelling probe.

He'd have to redesign that Achilles heel too.

Moffett had devised a system that Boeing only wished it knew it should patent. Their shockwave attenuation copyright was child's play compared to this thirty five year old invention that allowed a helicopter to travel at Mach one plus without it tearing apart. It was truly phenomenal. No wonder Russia wanted the shortcut to stay ahead of modern warfare ideas. As it was, they were already streets ahead of the USA when it came to their Active Protection Systems.

Dr Moffett had called his invention BBT or Boom Bypass Technology. It was all there in the blueprints.

Le thought back to the journey that should have been the last flight that any therapist would think would ease his anxiety for flying.

Once he was on board Airwolf, it was like she was looking after them all. She was more than a machine, she was almost a living thing. He could feel it all around him. By the time they were on the second to last leg to the mainland and almost at the point of no return, Branson came forward with his crazy idea to make the chopper vanish from existence before ever getting there.

Le was on board the idea without a second thought and within half an hour, three impressive machines had been called to action and were making their way towards a new mission.

The four hundred foot Dolphin was heading East - North East at 20 knots and Branson, with Jo and Nash at the controls, were flying on one of his newly certified AW169's tracking West – North West at 165 knots, the chopper was chosen because it was the fastest they had at their disposal.

The 169 would meet up with the Dolphin first and Branson would reacquaint himself with his friend Bob.

Bob was like a pig in mud, being in his line of work meant often crossing the line with authorities, he was always eager for a new challenge and he had already set his sites on how the adventure could benefit him in the future.

Meanwhile, The Lady had to make her scheduled Mid-Air Refuel and flew a hundred miles on course before starting a series of events that would send her into apparent oblivion.

After sending out a mayday call, Saint John dropped down and hovered close to the ocean. They jettisoned some fuel and Caitlin dumped an ELT that Le sabotaged to go in after it. The signal would stop once the water leaked in through the hole in the battery case and only few minutes or so after being activated. This would indicate their last known location and drift off uselessly thereafter. Le also changed the frequency of the EPIRB for the life raft. This was so that only their search party could find it again the next day. Caitlin, who had to hang precariously out of the chopper almost literally by the seat of her pants, carefully threw the contained raft clear of The Lady while St John took her up and out of the way as it inflated. It bellowed in Airwolf's downwash until it settled on the relatively calm water beneath.

Once they were satisfied that everything was in place, they changed course to meet with Dolphin, staying at low altitude and under the radar.

"There she is, thirty miles dead ahead." The relief evident in Caitlin's voice as Dolphin showed itself as a blip on her screen. Not long thereafter, they got a visual on the striking mega yacht as she appeared over the horizon and ahead of them.

Meanwhile the little stunt, of course caused a series of planned effects. While Airwolf flew in radio silence, Michael was straight on the blower to Branson to deliver the news and express his concern.

Branson had to put on an act that he was shocked and agreed to break the news to the others.

Search And Rescue was immediately put in place. Dolphin, which was by that stage the closest vessel to the "crash site" would be obligated to be part the search under maritime law.

Branson smiled as the ship's Captain announced his intentions over radio to start SAR ASAP for the downed chopper just as he watched Airwolf touch down on the rear deck. He started his decent from the bridge along with the others to greet her weary crew.

"Oh it's so good to see you all!" Jo said, hugging Caitlin first, followed by Le and Saint John. The boys then having their turn, giving regulatory man hugs and fist bumps before they wheeled The Lady into the double hangar and closed the door.

Airwolf's crew showered and then ate their first decent meal in days, before the three were all in bed and out like a light in no time.

While they relaxed, Dolphin steamed toward the _crash site_.

The Carl Vison had also turned to head towards the location and would release an airborne search as soon as their most suitable aircraft were within range to get back to the ship. That wouldn't be until the next day though because last light was only a couple of hours away.

Dolphin found the oil slick in the morning and Bob sent up his own EC155 chopper and after a few calculations on wind and water conditions, it was kept flying to keep up appearances and hold onto their patch of open water.

As the story unfolded, the three _survivors_ were miraculously found safe and drifting in the raft. Dolphin sent her tender out to retrieve the group and not before good time.

Just as they were returning to the mother ship a Navy C2 Greyhound flew over low and slow to take a peek. With everybody waving at the overpassing plane, it waggled it's wings in acknowledgment, flying past and away to return to the carrier.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the close call, it was time to tell the story leading to the tragic loss of The Lady as soon as Michael could get the report.

Airwolf had simply lost further power and they autorotated into the ocean. Tipping sideways upon contact, her rotors grabbed the water and turned her upside down. The temporary buoyancy devices and the life raft ensured the crew a safe escape before they cut the raft free and watched the stunning machine shaped like a shark and marked like an Orca, slip slowly into the depths of the North East Pacific Ocean.

It was all very dramatic.

Only twenty hours after she ditched, Airwolf flanked the 169 back to California and once they were near some remote landfall the former banked away at low altitude to hug the landscape back to the Lair.

Michael sat at Santini Air not long after, to collect the official reports off everyone for his investigation into the choppers demise. It was the last thing he'd do for the AMRB before he finally retired.

"Did you ever find out what was in that safety deposit box." Branson asked. That little detail had been on his mind often and he didn't want to waste this opportunity to try to find out.

"As a matter of fact we did!" Michael said as he looked over one side of the rim of his gasses, scanning everyone in the room with an almost impish smirk on his face and gaining their immediate attention.

"Oh really?" Branson asked, feigning nonchalance while sipping his tea from the other side of the boardroom table "And, are you at liberty to tell?" He asked as he placed his mug gently on the coaster.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt." Michael said with a shrug. "The safety deposit box contained a Microfilm cannister with some of Airwolf's blueprints," he disclosed easily.

He then went on to say that his team thought that perhaps Gloriana had taken the photos on the pretence to return the information to her superiors before Provov had a chance and take the credit she felt should have been hers.

Since she had been the one to live as a double agent for so long, she likely resented that Provov would ride in and take the glory. While it was her job to play Winchester, she was somewhat fond of him. Provov, not so much. And since Provov was all work, she decided to play him too.

She clearly already knew that Airwolf's blueprints were there for the taking and got what she needed, hiding the microfilm at the bank before telling Winchester of her findings. We know this because she and Winchester were placed in lockdown at the facility after her deposit due to a security breach and it wasn't until later that she disclosed the discovery of the blueprints for the first time.

"Unfortunately for her, she met her demise and fortunately for us, Airwolf's biggest secret stayed that way. At least until Provov's son found out." Michael said in conclusion.

"They always have a plan B, those Russians," Hawke said, offhandedly mumbling his assumption.

"Biggest secret you say?" Nash said smugly, drawing attention to Michael's slip of the tongue.

Michael only nodded, scratching his jaw sheepishly and kicking himself internally for his faux pas. Like String and Dom, these people never seemed to miss a thing and it would have done him well, never to underestimate that. They'd surely all make fine intelligence operatives.

"Do the Russians still have the Microfilm?" Branson asked, wanting to be sure.

"If we have copies, they likely have copies. We assume the originals went down with Yuri but the film definitely wasn't in great shape anyway and the pictures were taken from old computer monitors, so the frame rate really messed with the images. There was only enough information on it to suggest what it was that had the Russians so interested." Michael's tone was evasive.

"Ah! So only enough information to create interest" Nash said in smug understanding, "but not enough information to replicate it, which is why the bird remained such a hot commodity."

It was good to know that whatever was on that film was of little use to anyone.

Michael eyed Nash and gave him a lopsided smile in response. He'd already revealed too much, but it was a moot point now with Airwolf supposedly sitting at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. This close nit group, he knew, would keep a lid on anything Airwolf related and Michael was thankful he was only hours from finally walking away from it all in his current capacity.

For now, he was just going through the motions to wrap things up for the Director.

"So Michael, what convinced you to take all this on, even with everything that happened?" Caitlin asked directly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Well for me it was unfinished business to start with. I wanted to see Airwolf back on U.S. soil," he said, leaving a pregnant pause. He shook his head slightly at himself and changed his train of thought.

Something that also wasn't missed by the others.

"Anyway, you know I can't really say any more but..." He said as he got up ready to leave, holding up his finger and pausing for added effect, "did you ever ask yourselves why Airwolf never emitted a sonic boom?"

He left with that thought hanging in the air.

Wracking their brains, when had any of them witnessed Airwolf passing the speed of sound while not inside her cabin?

The Santini team, now firmly included Branson who, with all his resources, committed his deep pockets to fund Airwolf's refit.

While he couldn't always be in Van Nuys due to his other commitments, he did ask Jo on a date. After that proved a success, they had been on more dates. Luckily Branson had always kept his personal life exactly that and while there was some whispering that he was off The Most Eligible Batchelor List, the press didn't really sniff around too much.

Branson had also changed his ideas somewhat as far as developing the machine for the defence market and profiting from the spoils. But he did want to see how the Force Field Technology would develop, because if the team got that right... well that thought really excited him, even though that would likely take years.

While his wealth could buy him anything he wanted, this journey had given him something that he hadn't expected. He had gained what he considered a family.

For now there was a new toy he could invest in and later he'd talk about it with his _family_ and decide with them what they may or may not do with The Lady.

Caitlin always did like those flyboys. Even though she had continued hold a candle for String for so long, their relationship was cut short all those years ago before it ever really got started.

Saint John was far more open than String had ever been and it didn't take long for the two hit it off once all the drama had settled.

Nash had to settle for a long distance courtship with Dale. He suspected that Branson may have been keeping both of them busy on opposite sides of the globe on purpose. Nash was ok with that. For now. Dale was worth the wait.

And there was always Skype wasn't there?

When Nash wasn't bringing back aircraft to their creditors, he got stuck into Airwolf with Saint John and Le to meticulously go over her with a fine tooth comb.

Jo and Caitlin left the boys to it for the most part because the girls had a business to run and really didn't want to draw any lasting attention to further strange absences anymore then they absolutely had to. When the men where literally hiding in their cave, the two often had a wine over dinner together and acted like young girls as they chatted about their new relationships.

Le continued his mammoth job and worried what they would do with Airwolf once they had her ready to fly again. Nash would naturally succeed Saint John at the controls. Luckily Airwolf had never really been a hangar queen and mechanically everything could also be covered by Nash, Saint John and also on occasion, Diego Jr's regular input. It would be Le's job to stay ahead of technology.

Michael went on a much deserved tropical holiday and was reclining by a pool, sipping a drink with an umbrella in it and next to his life-long partner Marella, who incidentally still looked great in a white swimsuit. Smiling to himself, he was pleased that Airwolf was not only back on American soil, but also that she was safe and in the best hands with the best team to bring her up to date and make her more formidable then ever.

There would only ever be one of her if he could help it and he would give it some time before he would revisit his associates again, one day and after the U.S. Government finally gave up looking for the chopper he knew wasn't resting on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. The specialist salvage team on board Dolphin, could be busy for months trying to find a ghost.

Yes, he would return to the Airwolf project again one day.

He'd just have to figure out how to do that without awakening any conventional government agencies.

**The End**


End file.
